Three Sentence Stories (Part 5)

It’s rare that someone I met online looks exactly like their profile photo.

I thought that when I met him I would be able to bust him for using someone else’s photo, but as he introduces himself I find myself silent. He looks exactly like the last photo that was taken of my friend before he disappeared ten years ago, down to the birthmark on his neck.

He collapsed, panting and drenched in blood that was too dark to be human. The corpse of the monster lay still in front of him with far too many legs curled up around its torso.

It was such a shame that he never had time to realise that it was only a child.

I can hear my children beating at the boarded door and see their silhouettes, backlit by the setting sun. I remain quiet and listen for the approach of the creatures waiting in the darkness. While waiting for the problem to resolve itself, I hug my remaining child and gently remind him that this is why he should always listen to his mother and not stay outside after dark.


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