This morning I opened the curtains to find a bloody hand print from the outside of the window. I live on the third floor.
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.
After twelve long hours and being covered in mud, the man finally came home to hear his wife cooking in the kitchen. He thought what a waste of time if she already dug herself out.
I was tightly tucked up in bed with the glow of the nightlight illuminating the corner, as I begged my father to check for monsters in the cupboard opposite.
He closed the bedroom door and I switched off the nightlight and pulled myself into the blanket. It was then I heard the heavy breathing. He forgot to look under the bed.
My husband finished shaving in front of the bathroom mirror, rinsed his face and dried off. As he reached for the light switch by the door across the room, I could see his reflection pressed against the glass, leering…
As I was driving home from work today, I kept on hearing a peculiar rattle and scratching sound coming from the trunk of my car. I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO KEEP STILL IN THERE!
I always did love your face and everything about it. That’s why I’m wearing it now.
I always did love listening to you sing for me. It’s a shame that I had to chain you to that chair in my windowless basement.
I’ll don’t ever want to leave your side, my love. And now, with the help of this doctor and this suture, I’ll never have to.
Your lips always did taste the sweetest. I’m still chewing on them, coated in caramel.
My husband decided that we needed to improve our sex life, and then, he blew his brains out with his .45. He was right – our sex life improved drastically!
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.
My hands and underarms grew clammy with fevered regret as I doubled over in the simple but cushy chair, head down and fingers interlocked as though in prayer. Then, the grey-haired, bifocaled man uttered the magic words that would grip my body and make it convulse wildly in a fit of rapture: “You are NOT the father!”
I closed the door, knelt, and said, “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” He slid the screen aside and reached through the opening as he told me that there is no heaven.