☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
🫖 Alice Spills the Tea: The Thief in the Night
Alright, darling, gather 'round. This one’s a real creeper—a tale that’ll have you glancing over your shoulder when the sun goes down and the moon creeps its way into the sky. I’m about to spill the tea on a creature so shadowed, so sneaky, it might just slip past you without a whisper... unless, of course, it wants you to hear it.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "A thief? In the night? That’s been done before." Oh, sweet summer child, this one’s different. This isn't your average pickpocket or midnight burglar. No, no. This is a thief who steals something far more precious than your keys or your jewels.
This is the tale of The Thief in the Night.
Long ago, in the forgotten corners of 4EverMore, there was a small, quiet village where the people lived peaceful lives. Or at least, they appeared to. They had everything they could possibly need: wealth, family, and health. But there was something off about the place. Something that, at first glance, seemed innocuous. Something that would send chills down your spine if you dared to pay attention.
Every night, without fail, something was... missing.
It wasn’t the food from the pantries or the coins from the coin pouches. No, those were safe. What disappeared was far more insidious. It was their memories.
The people would wake up each morning, feeling like something was missing. Something important. It wasn’t tangible, it wasn’t something they could hold, but it was there, in the back of their minds. A nagging sensation. A gap. They would brush it off, of course. Everyone’s tired, right? No big deal. They’d laugh it off, go about their days, and pretend nothing was wrong.
Until the nightmares started.
At first, they were subtle. Just strange, unsettling dreams. The kind that left you with a feeling of unease, but nothing to really worry about. But soon, the dreams turned into something far worse—memories, but twisted. Nightmares where they were reliving their past, but with missing pieces. Faces blurred, conversations half-remembered, promises forgotten.
The townsfolk started to wonder if they were losing their minds. They turned to the elders, the wise ones, the supposed protectors of the village’s secrets, but the elders didn’t have answers. They were just as lost. Everyone seemed to be slipping further and further into the void.
And that’s when they first saw it. The shadow.
A tall figure, cloaked in darkness, moving swiftly from house to house, slipping through the cracks of the village like an elusive wisp of smoke. They’d hear its whisper—a soft, cold voice that seemed to seep into their bones: “A memory… is mine.”
And just like that, another memory would vanish.
Now, darling, don’t think the townsfolk didn’t try to fight back. They did. They called upon their strongest warriors, the most skilled witches, the bravest hearts. But no matter what they did, no matter how they tried to catch the Thief in the Night, it always slipped away, leaving only that empty feeling behind. No one ever saw its face, but everyone knew it was there. They could feel it. Watching. Waiting.
What made this creature so terrifying was that it didn’t steal just memories. Oh, no, sweetie. It stole something deeper. It stole pieces of the soul. Those memories, those fleeting moments that made a person who they were? Gone. Snatched away like a trinket in the night. And without those memories, people began to forget themselves.
They forgot their joys. Their regrets. Their loves. Their hate. The Thief in the Night didn’t care about the little things. It took the essential parts—those delicate threads that connected their lives together, the things that made them human.
And here’s the kicker—there was no way to get those memories back.
People started to change. Friends became strangers. Lovers grew cold. And, oh, darling, don’t get me started on the families. Those that had once known each other so well now passed by as if they were nothing more than ghosts, walking past with vacant eyes and hollow expressions. People went mad. Some disappeared. Some… simply ceased to be.
And through it all, the Thief in the Night watched, silently, lurking in the shadows, always one step ahead. No one knew how to stop it. They didn’t even know what it was. Some said it was a spirit. Some said it was a cursed being, born from the darkest corners of 4EverMore. Others believed it was a manifestation of lost memories—the collective sorrow of those who had forgotten so much they became a shadow of themselves.
I, of course, was watching from a safe distance. Oh, I’m no fool. I’ve learned from far too many close calls. But even I couldn’t deny the unease that crept over me whenever the wind whispered that chilling voice: “A memory... is mine.”
It wasn’t until much later, when the village had nearly emptied, that I learned the truth. The Thief in the Night wasn’t just taking memories for its own twisted pleasure. No. It was feeding on them. It was feeding on the very essence of life itself. Because, darling, without memories, we lose our reason for existing. And in that emptiness, the Thief in the Night found its sustenance.
So now, my dear listener, let me give you a warning. The Thief doesn’t just steal memories in the dark corners of forgotten villages. Oh, no. It can come for you, too. You think you’re safe, but darling, the Thief in the Night is always watching. Always waiting. And if you’re not careful, it might just take a little piece of you—without you even knowing.
So when the night falls and the shadows grow long, remember this: there’s always someone—or something—lurking just beyond your door. And when the whispers start, the question isn’t if it will come for you. The real question is: what will it take?
