I handed her a tissue to comfort my crying friend. She gave it back covered in scarlet ink
Moonlight cut sharply through the darkness. The axe cut cleanly through his flesh.
Last night I had an itch that would not let me go to sleep, and I knew what it was; however, as hard as I tried, I could not reach it. So, I stood up all night cursing the person that forgot to take my toe tag off before I was buried.
Ever since she brought that damn clown doll in the house there have been strange things happening. That night however, was even worse; as she lay her 13 month old baby in her crib in the dark bedroom, the baby’s eyes got really large, and then she held her finger to her lips and whispered, “Shhhh…” at the closet door.
“I love you,” he whispered and again I started to cry. His kisses were still sweet but the scent of the cemetery was in his funeral suit.
Staring from my bed, viewing my dark hallway, I walked but something grabbed me.
Then I woke up, staring from my bed, viewing my dark hallway.
She said she wanted to take me to heaven. I didn’t know she meant it literally, or that a chainsaw would be involved.
Why I said I left: it was getting a little too weird for me.
Why I really left: I could hear him in his office every night with that thing, chanting, praying, making odd noises, and when I peeked in there in the morning there were flecks of blood on the desk and walls.
They say you can’t succeed in showbiz unless you sell your soul, although there are some who don’t and still manage to make it. Not true: I’ve collected every soul of every fame seeker since 1906.
I tried to get into the house the ‘legal’ way–do the knock and talk thing before serving my warrant. Finally, I had to use a shotgun on the deadbolt…at the exact moment that six year old was struggling to open the door.
She told me if I did it, the effects would wear off in twenty four hours. It’s been four days, and I’m pretty certain I’m not getting my body back; I wonder what she’s doing with it?
My parents feed my sister through a hole she cut in the door to her room, which she has bolted shut from the inside, because, according to them, she doesn’t want to eat with us anymore.
When I ask why not, my mother said, “She doesn’t like what happened to your other sister.”
I asked my dad why it seems my mom has eyes in the back of her head. He says every family is unique and I should shut up and concentrate on keeping my gills clean.
No one will rent me an apartment because they say my rental history is ‘spotty.’ I’m not sure why anyone thinks there’s anything spotty about apartments where mass burglaries, arson and a triple homicide happened.
He told me I would only have to sleep in the box at nighttime. But it’s always nighttime now.
I’m so excited to go home that I didn’t realize the trail of liquid behind me as I walk to my front door. The door opened and I can hear my mom shouting to my dad that I was stabbed multiple times and left to rot in a ditch since yesterday.
They said what was a nice girl like me doing alone in a graveyard at night. That was the last thing anyone heard them say.
We tell our kids the phantom footsteps are the house settling, that the tapping on their window is a tree branch in the wind. Now if we could just come up with a logical explanation for the chainsaw noise from the basement last night, or where our pesky neighbor disappeared to.
So many on this planet worry about alien attack, invasion and takeover. What we’ve never bothered to tell them is that we won’t waste resources that way; we won’t begin terraforming until their civilization has died off naturally, which will happen much sooner than most believe.
I tell everyone he died in the ocean after our plane crashed, and that I survived for two months on the island by hunting ‘sea birds and other small game.’ He really died about a month after we both swam to shore, and I hit him over the head with that rock so I could live off his remains until they found me.