Prologue
Perihan gazed at the opulent villas lined
up like precious pearls on a necklace, feeling overwhelmed by their excessive
beauty. The sight was almost terrifying, reminiscent of the antique pearls
adorning her own necklace. As the dark clouds were illuminated by a sudden
flash of lightning, she shook off her thoughts and quickened her pace along the
deserted road. The gentle raindrops on her tired face felt like an ominous
sign. The unexpected gust of wind, unusual for a mild November afternoon, added
to her unease.
On her seventieth birthday, Perihan had
indulged in a day of shopping at Milan’s most luxurious stores. Despite her
age, she possessed a strong physique, with firm knees, agile movements, and
enough strength to carry her shopping bags from the stores to her home. The
kind store managers at Cartier and Valentino had offered to send the packages
to her address with a courier, but she declined, insisting she could manage on
her own. Though she lacked a family to celebrate with, her small group of
friends had arranged to gather at the villa, refusing to let her spend the
evening alone. They had asked her to leave the house and return around seven
o’clock. Glancing at her watch, Perihan realized she was already half an hour
late.
Oh
my… Licia must have already set the table, she thought
as she turned the corner onto Via Marco de Marchi, where she resided. Just
then, another lightning bolt flashed across the sky, and a large monarch
butterfly appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Despite the heavy rain, Perihan
could hear the faint flapping of its wings. The butterfly had bright orange and
black stripes, with one wing decorated with symmetric white dots. It seemed to
hover in midair.
“What a miracle,” Perihan exclaimed, a
smile stretching across her wrinkled face. “It’s been years since I last saw
this one…and on my birthday!” Hastily shifting the heavy bags onto her
shoulder, she wiped the raindrops from her eyes with her long red nails and
followed the butterfly. It fluttered around in circles for a few moments,
before darting straight ahead. Despite the downpour, the orange-and-black wings
moved swiftly. Overwhelmed with excitement, Perihan disregarded the red
light—and almost got hit by an old Ford passing by. The driver, an unattractive
man with numerous moles and few teeth, leaned out of the window and cursed at
her in an Italian dialect she couldn’t understand. Unfazed by his behavior,
Perihan remained focused on following the butterfly, which flew rapidly and
ascended into the sky.
“I wonder where it disappeared to,” she
mused with a melancholic expression on her face. The rain intensified, the
drainage problems in the area turning the road into a pool of water. Perihan’s
bare feet were drenched as the rain seeped through the open toes of her green
python slingbacks.
“You’re blocking my view.” The unexpected
comment startled her. She looked at the stranger, hoping to recognize a
friendly face, but it was no one she knew. She turned to notice the growing
crowd of people with their faces hidden behind their phone screens. She
wondered if they were filming her. Lacking an umbrella, her meticulously
coiffed hair now wet, her makeup smudged, and her silk skirt ruined by the
muddy street, Perihan was struck by the crowd’s indifference. They shifted
slightly to the right, attempting to remove her from their line of sight, all
the while continuing to record whatever had caught their attention. Curious,
Perihan turned around and was terrified by what she saw. In shock, she dropped
her red shopping bags, causing more muddy water to splatter onto her skirt and
completely destroying her shoes.
“This can’t be happening,” she screamed
to the sky at the top of her lungs. Her knees trembled uncontrollably, left her
unsure about taking another five steps to cross the road. Perihan noticed the
cameras turning toward her in her peripheral vision, but she paid no mind to
the desperation and terror that would eventually go viral on numerous social
media networks in multiple countries. Her villa loomed in front of her,
concealed by high walls covered with lush green bushes—now invaded by
hundreds, if not thousands, of butterflies. They hovered over the garden,
flapping their wings vigorously despite the pouring rain. The entire
structure, partially visible through the bushes, seemed imprisoned within a
butterfly sanctuary. When Perihan realized the creatures were all monarchs,
each one so exquisite and valuable, she paused. Beauty had a threshold, and
beyond it, it became a captivating terror, holding people’s attention hostage
to fulfill its own needs. She propelled herself into the flooded road, heading
for the garden gate. With what little strength remained after the ordeal, she
pushed her way through the floral Art Nouveau door.
“Licia! Where are you?” she shouted upon
entering the garden. Before closing the door behind her, she turned to scream
at the onlookers, “Leave! The show’s over! This is my property!” Yet, the
crowd remained unaffected, mesmerized by the extraordinary natural phenomenon
unfolding before them.
Licia, Perihan’s housekeeper and closest
friend of nearly forty years, looked like a ghost. Her complexion was drained
of color, her wet hair clung to her face in disheveled patches, and her shoes
were ruined by dark mud. She trembled as she spoke. “Perihan… We did our best,
but…” Licia glanced quickly at their small group of friends, who observed the
scene from the kitchen window on the first floor of the house. Perihan brushed
Licia aside with the back of her hand and made her way toward the large greenhouse
on the left side of the garden. Orange butterflies continued to emerge rapidly
through a broken pane in its ceiling, swarming through the air. Looking up at
the vortex of butterflies resembling a brewing tornado, Perihan felt a wave of
dizziness. Her bony hand reached for the intricately detailed metal handle of
the greenhouse door, but fear gripped her body. She hesitated, afraid to enter,
yet knowing she had no other choice. Slowly, she pushed the door open, entered,
and closed it behind her.
Licia tried to conceal her sobbing behind
her hands. Should she follow Perihan into the greenhouse or return to the
house? The rain cascaded like a waterfall, obstructing not only her movements
but her thoughts as well. She compelled herself to decide, but the sudden
outburst from within the greenhouse froze her in place.
“No… No… No!” Perihan’s voice echoed,
growing louder with each repetition—until the world fell silent, save for the
raindrops tapping against any surface they encountered. The darkness beneath
the swarm of butterflies gradually gave way to a dull light as they departed
from the house. Licia collapsed onto her knees and allowed herself to sink into
the saturated garden soil, her tears mingling with the raindrops. Once the
first monarch butterfly Perihan had witnessed a few moments earlier found its
way to her villa, it hovered briefly over the garden before heading in the same
direction as the others. When the last of the butterflies vanished, no trace of
the miraculous event remained.
Excerpted from THEIR MONSTROUS HEARTS by Yigit Turhan.
Copyright © 2025 by Yigit Turhan. Published by MIRA, an imprint of
HTP/HarperCollins.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Yigit Turhan was born in Ankara,
Turkey. A lifelong reader, he owes his love of horror to his grandmother and
the films she shared with him. He has previously published a horror novel in
Turkish. He lives in Milan, Italy, where he holds a C-suite role at a renowned fashion
house. This is his English-language debut.
