“Honey, are you back yet?” I ask, as the living room door opens behind me. Someone appreciatively whispers “No…” into my ear.
“I’ve forgotten to turn off the car lights yet again” I think and reach for the car keys. Then I realize that in the darkness outside my window no rear lights are glowing, but two red eyes staring at me.
Imagine a fearsome creature, neither man nor animal, with matted fur, spotted with clotted blood, having razor-sharp claws and teeth, big, strong, virtually impregnable and with greedy glowing eyes. Even this being would be afraid of what’s outside your door waiting for you to already come out.
I texted my daughter to ask her exactly where I was supposed to pick her up. Just as I hit “send” she bounced off my hood, crashed through my windshield and landed lifeless in my lap.
As expected, I saw another disgusting pile of my roommate’s hair clogging the shower drain. Irritated, I started to forcefully pull the strands out only to hear someone’s screams of pain screech out from the drain pipe.
My ex-husband told me that he would steal my heart again.
It now sits in a jar on his nightstand.
My five year old daughter asks her mother to read her a bedtime story every night.
Her mother died five years ago in childbirth.
A stranger once asked if I could lend him a hand, so I did. He never gave it back.
I sneezed once, twice, three times in succession. A thin voice beside the bed cackled “God bless you.”
The sound of the growling dog pulled me from a deep slumber. I don’t own a dog.
My throat was cut, my hands and feet bound, I slowly sank into the river as the world became darkness, my thoughts lingering around the dark shapes who threw me in.
And here I lie, telling my story to all I pull down, again and again, forever and always, till my ropes are cut.
I wish you knew just how I feel, how you are the only thing on my mind all day, how much I love you, love the way you smell, the way you look when you sleep.
Some of these days I really should introduce myself to you.
I gazed into the mirror and raised my right hand. The reflection smiled back and raised its right hand too.
…Later that day I received a message on my phone that said “You were the only one there, you know who killed me!” It was from my wife, she kept my phone number and charged my phone, after I passed away 6 months ago just to hear my voice on the Voice Mail.
“Can you read my mind?” she thought tentatively with a chill running down her spine. “Yes.” he said cooly turning to face her.
I’m the best hider in hide and seek. I was found only once, but never again.
A man says to his wife, “Honey, can you tell the kids to be quiet? I’m trying to read my paper.” The old woman turns to the wife and says, “He has unfinished business.”
I’m the best seeker in hide and seek. There was no one who hid from me that was ever found.
The woman sang a sad song. Her voice echoed through the old empty seats.