I smiled as I watched the lady scold herself for being so scared when that stupid black cat had jumped in front of her in that dark alley. That smile turned into a grin when I realized she hadn’t noticed me standing right behind her.
“Dad, there are monsters in my closet!” He replies, “I know, son.”
Most girls first memories are of being given a bottle, or rocked to sleep.
Mine is of being raped.
I was dancing in the studio alone, practicing Wendy’s part for our upcoming school play, when the music suddenly stopped. I was about to fix the sound system when I noticed that a dark shadow continued to dance just beside my reflection in the mirror, which surely wasn’t Peter Pan’s.
They say you are what you eat. According to his driver’s license, I’m now Virginia Resident ‘John Tuckett’.
They always said she had a big heart. It’s true, I can’t fit my hand around the damn thing.
“Wow, your kid’s all grown up!” I said smiling and waving at the little girl who was grinning at me from the sofa. My friend, who I have not visited for years and who suddenly looked like she had a stiff neck, carefully asked me, “You see her, too?”
When the basketball team I’ve placed a $100 bet on won in the last minute of the game, I jumped out of my seat in celebration and chest-bumped my best buddy who was also rejoicing beside me.
Realizing what just happened, I abruptly stopped smiling and gaped at my late prankster of a friend who exclaimed, “I finally got you, man! You thought I was still alive, didn’t you?”
The little girl kept on crying, pleading and muttering, “I don’t wanna die, please, I don’t wanna die…”
I sighed at the sight of her and wondered how to let her know it’s already too late.
One night, I received an email of a cartoon GIF with an animated boy crying and tearing blood.
As I was just about to delete the email, I noticed little drops of blood on my keyboard.
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.
“Now add the ladies’ fingers into the broth,” ordered Helga.
“Sure,” I answered, “shall I drain the blood first?”
On the night of my son’s fifth birthday, the government men silently carried their equipment into his bedroom. Reminding myself that this was necessary, I placed a shaking hand over my mutilated face and discovered that the thirty-two-year-old crater where my right eye used to be was still capable of producing tears.
“I have to stop her,” I thought as my fingers closed on the handle of the kitchen knife and I started walking towards my sleeping parents’ room. And yet no matter how hard I tried, my body could only listen to the shrilling voice of its’ murderous new owner.
Last night, I was cutting onions in the kitchen when an onion bulb rolled down and under the kitchen counter. I lazily slumped on the floor and stretched my right arm to get the onion only to find myself holding a piece of my left thumb covered in my own blood.
Proud to have finished my self-portrait because of how realistic and three-dimensional my image had looked using acrylic, I brought and presented my painting in our art school event.
As I expected, my teachers and classmates thought it was an amazing masterpiece but what confused me was when my art teacher excitedly asked me right after my presentation, “So who was your lovely subject?”
i was playing wii sports bowling home alone against myself with two controllers. it was the other controllers turn so i walked over to pick it up but it was gone and i heard “strike” from behind me.
“Hi! Is this seat taken?”
It was three in the morning when i opened my eyes. When i saw written on the wall “First one that moves dies!”
I’ve always loved my wife’s face. That’s why i Keep it safe in my dresser.