It was Jim’s idea to hill her. It was me what had to do it, though.
I was at my father’s funeral. As I reached the casket he opened his eyes.
For her final act, Maria pulls a rabbit out of her hat. The rabbit explodes—killing everyone in the venue.
My twin sister died yesterday. Now I wish the doctors had separated us at birth.
I was amazed to find that she lived for several weeks after I had cut off her head. I’ve read that the same curious phenomenon is also sometimes found in cockroaches.
The sound of children laughing and playing wafted through my home one balmy summer night. Only one problem, I don’t have any children.
I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”
Winter hid behind the door, choking down his fear as the floorboards in the room creaked. The pacing stopped, replaced by a soft, cruel laugh.
I am a horror story; you should be afraid to pick me up, lead me on, make me fall in love with you, let me down and break my heart.
Cause if you do all those things, I promise you I’ll hunt you down, because I don’t let go that easily, I’ll take my soul back and leave you there for dead.
There are at least two hundred mass murderers in the world that are still active, the Facebook news story told her.
“Honey, dinner’s ready!” her mother called, entering the room with a carving knife.
Kelly was my girlfriend at the time and she tried to shock me one day by showing me that she had shaved her head. I just laughed because I knew I had a far better shock waiting for her in my backyard where I kept the dead bodies of all the people I had murdered.
The basement on draft day was a powder keg of long-held resentments and well-placed barbs made painful and stale over time; hatred was everywhere, so thick you could slice it up and eat it straight out of the air. The battle royale started like the most vengeful game of dominoes you’ve ever played: Pat sprayed his bear mace into Evan’s eyes, screaming almost unintelligibly about last year’s Fred Jackson trade, and Evan — even blind — wrapped his chain around Pat’s neck, yanked him to the ground, and pounced atop his rival with all the rage of all the years.
The basement was full of killers: Andy with his customized spiked brass knuckles; Victor gripping his trust machete; Evan cradling his whipping chain; Sam gripping a duo of rusty butcher knives; Pat with his bear mace in hand. My God, Denny thought as he descended into the basement, this is the day our fantasy football threats come nightmarishly true.
He’d finally had enough of shaving and he was convinced if he got a close enough shave he wouldn’t have to worry about it for a whole week. Over and over again the five bladed razor scraped along his skin; the deranged man never noticed he had reached bone as his whole torso was covered in blood and shredded pieces of his face.
The girl wearing scandalous exercise clothes gave me no choice, really: I had tapped her shoulder as a friendly reminder that the Starbucks barista was ready to take her order. Exercise Freak bristled, turned toward me, called me all manner of socially unacceptable nicknames, and soon found herself on the floor, having her pretty little face melted off by scalding coffee — Pike’s Peak, to be exact.
The cave beast slithered out of his lair for a quick drink at Starbucks with the unsuspecting girl. “I should have stayed home and gotten drunk by myself watching Lifetime movies,” she thought as he deftly drained the life out of her with his overdeveloped sense of joylessness, honed over a score of years in his mother’s basement.
I thought maybe I’d want to eat people, as they do in the movies. Everyone was dead though, and when I bit into my wife, she hardly flinched, and I was not satiated because the dead had nothing for the dead.