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.

Ever since my father died my mother has been locked in their room, talking to herself. It was so lovely to hear her laughter for the first time today that it took me a minute to realise I heard my father’s laugh as well. I wish she would have let us remove his corpse from their room.

There is no light coming in through the windows. There hasn’t been for days, not since the insects began swarming at the windows and doors to my house. I try to calm my children as we hear buzzing and skittering from the chimney.

Grave robbery wasn’t the most immoral job in the world; after all the only real difference between it and archaeology was time. This thought calmed the man as he began prising the coffin lid open. He paused to wipe the sweat and dirt out of his eyes, which stopped him from seeing skeletal fingers reaching from inside the coffin to take advantage of the gap he had provided.