The Iara.

A cryptid horror story.

The amount of time that Sheela got to spend working in the pet shop had been greatly reduced after the most recent police investigation. Apparently, when you tell someone not to put their body parts near the mouth of a crocodilian of any species, no matter how small it may be at the time, there’s a statistically high chance that they aren’t going to listen. When this happens, law enforcement then starts getting nosy.

She rolled her kohl rimmed eyes as she thought about it. Some gangbanger had come in looking for something ‘with bite’. Yeah, that was how he had worded it. Well, they had just the animal he was looking for. A 7 yr old American alligator named Lucifer had been recently resurrendered to the store. Sheela went through the usual warnings and provided an appropriate care guide pamphlet, as was customary with all pets sold in the store.

And she knew the moment he walked out the door, his receipt and notice for delivery in hand, yet the pamphlet ominously missing, that the idiot wouldn’t last long. Lucifer was a frequent flyer at the shop. Alligators weren’t the best pets in their natural environments, much less so in a land of snowy winters. But if the moron wasn’t going to even try to properly care for it, she figured, whatever happens, he had coming to him.

When the police came a few weeks later, asking questions, she knew who they were there for long before they got around to flashing his picture and talking about gators. However, thankfully, the man, a rather notorious drug dealer in the metro area on the other side of the river, was just one of their normal clientele failing to listen. The cops had yet to catch on to the other, more exotic creatures on offer and the higher-end clients that demanded them. With the higher prices paid, came higher costs should the owner slip up on care.

Humming a wordless tune, Sheela took the steps down the spiral staircase into the basement of Nona’s Pets one at a time. In her hand that was not clutching the curved, black railing, she held a bucket full of thawed smelt, a species of small freshwater fish. They had just received a new special shipment the night before, and it was her first time getting a look at the new iara. It wasn’t the first time that such a rare and elusive creature had been held there, but it was the first time since Sheela had started working there two years ago. She was hoping the smelt would help her to make friends with it.

The basement was almost impossibly large, like the store above, but was dimly lit, with a thick, heavy layer of incense smoke that clung to the air as if touching the floor were a bad thing. This was a requirement for many of the special creatures sold at Nona’s Pets. The ones reserved for only special customers, rich or poor. The right person for the right pet.

She passed by cages large and small, with colorful birds and mysterious reptiles. A gaggle of mud and caramel colored vampire finches in one large enclosure fluttered and chirped amongst the various perches and greenery, while a miniature albino ice dragon with pink glowing eyes paced around, squinting its nearly blind eyes at everything in another. There were great vats of water that housed many strange and often terrifying fish. A great hutch with horned rabbits sat up against the back wall. Everyone thought they wanted a jackalope until they realized the level of care required to maintain their very specific dietary and enrichment requirements.

Finally, Sheela came up to the largest of the aquatic enclosures, a more than 5,000 gallon steel tank with a small two foot by three food viewing window and a heavy lid with a series of small golf ball-sized ventilation holes. In the darkness, she somehow managed to make out the blurred outline of the iara amongst the thick plant matter in the dark water.

“I see you.” She smiled, her voice quiet. There was a loud thud and sloshing of water as the creature bashed the side of the steel vat with its great tail.

“Oh come now, sweet love, don’t be angry. I’ve brought you some treats.” Her voice was a silky purr.

---

“We got a new shipment in last night. Please make sure that you maintain the feeding schedule for the chupa pups, as their dam didn’t make it during shipping. The papers are over by the register in the lock box.”

Sheela looked at her boss nonplussed. She’d been there two years now, and next to nothing surprised her anymore.

“Oh, and stay away from the big tank in the warehouse. We got an Amazonian iara in that needs time to calm down and acclimate to its surroundings. She’s exceptionally aggressive. Observe from a distance and avoid her gaze. If you should hear what sounds like singing or screaming, ignore it, or doom will befall you.”

The old woman went back to smoking her pipe and glancing at the paperwork spread out on her black lacquered wooden desk. Sheela nodded and left the doorway of the stuffy smoke filled office.

“And no more idiotic stunts like you pulled with that alligator! I’m having him shipped to a sanctuary to avoid any more mishaps when I really should be shipping you off! I should deduct the cost of transport from your pay on top of cutting your hours!” Nona shouted after her.

Sheela just walked away, down the hallway to the front end of the shop, letting the ornery old woman rant to herself. The joys of working for family, even if it was distant family.

---

The shop was closed now, with boss lady Nona having gone home for the evening. Sheela stepped closer to the vat. Nona’s words echoed faintly in her mind as she approached. She could handle Lucifer on her own without issue, even with his crabby attitude. Surely slipping some smelt through one of the ventilation holes would be no issue. It’s not like the oversized creature could escape through something the size of a golf ball.

Murky water continued to slosh against the walls of the steel tank as she drew closer. Beside the vat was a tall ladder, enabling one to access the heavy lid. Bucket of fish hanging from her wrist as she gripped the ladder, she checked the sturdiness and then ascended the twelve feet. She could barely reach the closest hole to her, but managed to nudge a few fish inside the tank.

The movement inside seemed to go still. Sheela climbed back down, leaving the bucket at the top. Her feet hit the floor, and she darted to the observation window. It was still too dark to really see anything, so she pulled out her cell phone, an item that was normally forbidden beyond the first floor of the shop, and turned on her flashlight.

She gave out a loud cry the moment her eyes adjusted and registered the sight in front of her. She had read that iara were akin to mermaids, luring men to their deaths, only this time in the fresh waters of the Amazon River rather than the salt-laden oceans. She had imagined them to be beautiful. But the creature that lunged at her was anything but. Long, sharp teeth, both in shovel and conical shapes, filled a mouth that appeared to be too big for the vaguely humanoid head. Long, flexible appendages, similar to catfish barbels, grew from its head, reminiscent of hair. Large, round eyes, silver rimmed and black in the glaring light of the phone, took up a sizable portion of the front of its face. The upper torso was frighteningly lean, bony looking, and sunken in, while its human-like arms ended in long, heavily clawed fins. They scratched against the acrylic observation window as the head snapped voraciously at Sheela.

She dropped her phone in shock as she backpedaled to get away from the creature. Suddenly, a sharp keening sound filled her ears, piercing and painful. Animals all throughout the basement warehouse cried out in pain and started to panic. Sheela crouched down from the agonized pulsing that the noise caused in her head and threw her hands up over her ears to try to deafen it. In the middle of this, the alarm set on her phone went off, adding to the chaotic cacophony. She grew dizzy when she stood up, her back turned towards the steel tank and its observation window, and tried to leave. Tripping over her own feet, Sheela crashed sideways into a pen, upsetting the metal fencing that kept the occupants inside.

Just underneath the chaos of the keening and howling of the other animals around her, she heard whimpers and whines, the sounds of puppies. She couldn’t get up, couldn’t move her hands from her ears. She couldn’t move at all, as if she were paralyzed, held in place. She felt soft, curious paws pressing onto her. Something jumped on top of her hip and clumsily walked up her side to her shoulder as she lay tilted on her stomach and side. Then she felt the wet tongue of a puppy lapping at her face from around her hand held tight to her ear, whining and whimpering as it did so. Her fear relaxed for a moment before she realized what pen she must have fallen into. She could feel the other creatures in the pen approaching and investigating her prone form. Again, she tried to move but found she couldn’t. The pups eagerly walked around and all over her, their sparsely coated little bodies wiggling with wound up energy. Whimpers turned to tiny barks of excitement against the keening of the iara. The one standing on her shoulder, the bravest of the six, was still licking her face enthusiastically until a lick suddenly turned into a bite. Not the playful bite of a normal pup. No. This mockery of the domestic canine had sharp blade-like teeth meant for slicing.

She screamed and tried to shake the creature away from her, but again, she couldn’t move. The pup chewed on the layer of cheek flesh its teeth had removed before swallowing and then happily lapping at the blood that poured forth from the wound left behind. Its littermates quickly followed suit, eager to feed. Chupacabra feed mainly on the blood of other animals, but the young, somewhat akin to piranha, partake of the flesh as well to maintain their rapid growth rates.

No one else was around to hear Sheela’s agonized screams and eventual groggy cries for help as she was bled out. No one else was around to hear the keening call of the iara, nor witness its intense fascination as it observed the chupacabra pups gorge themselves on their meal. It wasn’t till the next morning when Nona herself came down to the warehouse, making her usual morning rounds, that anyone was aware that anything was amiss.

She came upon the mess that was the pen where the chupa pups were held. All six pups were quite thankfully accounted for, fast asleep in a pile by Sheela’s remains, their bellies still swollen, a good sign that their feeding schedule had indeed been maintained. She glanced casually at the stiffened and half-devoured body of her staff member and great-niece. She looked around the vicinity of the pen, and nodded, impressed. There wasn’t a drop of blood to be seen anywhere on or around her. The pups had done a fine job. The sound of water sloshing in the steel vat then caught her attention. The old woman looked over at the two foot by three foot observation window and grinned an ugly, tobacco stained, Cheshire cat grin.

The iara was there, her beautiful, tan, round face and dark eyes staring hungrily at the corpse by Nona’s feet.

“Ah, are you finally hungry, my sweet? I have a most wonderful treat for you then.” She then pulled a small, black walkie-talkie out of her cardigan pocket and radioed to staff elsewhere in the building. “I’ve got a code 73 Blue. Jenkins, if you would assist me.”

“On my way, boss.” Radio static crackled.

She dropped the radio back into the pocket and approached the viewing window. The iara locked eyes with her and pressed in close, hugging the acrylic, its long arms framing it like a picture.

“Such a pretty thing you are. Yes, and the best thing is, you’re going to make me a lot of money.”

Nona turned away and cackled loudly as if she had just told a good joke. Nothing made her happier than earning lots of money.

---

I hope you enjoyed this piece. For those who are old school anime or horror manga fans, this concept might seem familiar… yes. Pet Shop of Horrors was a favorite of mine, and it’s criminal that there are only so few episodes. So rude.