Four Sentence Stories

I know it’s the ultimate guilty pleasure, but I can’t stop watching videos of people being killed online. As the stream begins, I immediately recognise my street as the camera follows a man to my front door. When I hear knocking I begin to panic and can’t believe they picked me, that it was my turn, despite having agreed to the website’s dire conditions.  As I shakily open the door I also can’t believe that the man at the door hasn’t noticed the cameraman in the shadows who winks at me from over his shoulder.

Evan had begun to think that stealing a mannequin might have been a funnier idea in the daytime than at night.The damn thing still gave him the creeps. Even posed wearing one of his shirts and cradling a bottle of beer the silhouette on the couch gave him the creeps, so he distracted himself by doing the dishes and thinking about how much it would scare his dummy-phobic flatmate.  He heard footsteps and braced for the screams. He only had a moment to realise that he hadn’t heard the front door open before it was interrupted by a beer bottle crushing his skull.

It’s best not to stare, the child’s mother whispered as she pulled him down street, away from the man he still strained to look at. People had started acting weirdly recently, and no one would explain why he couldn’t talk to them or ask why their skin looked like old clothes they’d outgrown.

He wanted to ask his father, but his mother had locked him in the basement after he’d gotten sick and spent all night screaming. As she pulled him down the alleyway and clutched the bag of food tightly with her other hand, the boy gripped the basement key he’d found tightly and smiled as he thought about seeing his father that night.

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