I knew babies cried in their sleep. I can understand why they also yell in their sleep.
It’s the giggling that creeps me out, particularly since he can’t do it while he’s awake yet.
I’d say it’s the second creepiest part of parenthood. The third is that some switch flipped in my brain the second he was born and nothing he produces disgusts me.
The first is the ease with which a chat with my husband moves from “he’s sleeping so well!” to “can you please check he’s still alive?”
He had been running longer than he’d ever thought possible, long past when his body would have given up on a normal day. The fear kept him moving.
For the first time since he’d seen his friend’s dead body at the camp-site, he stopped. He could no longer hear the creature pursuing him. Even with the sound of his pulse and gasping breath roaring, he had been able to hear the creature following. The sounds of its snarls, of the claws rending through the leaves, the same claws that had-
He pushed the image of his friend’s body away and swallowed. He needed to hide while he had distance, and retching would give him away.
Ahead was a tall tree, where roots stood above eroded dirt. He could hide there, wait as long as possible, then seek help.
He took a quiet step forward, praying that he had truly lost the creature.
One his wrist, his smart watch beeped and lit up, celebrating his 10,000th step.
Claws pressed eagerly into the underbrush behind him as the chase began again.
I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I knew I had a bag of corn chips saved for myself. I saw it when I put the shopping away, I saw it when I got out the ingredients for dinner, and it was still there when I put them away. With dinner finally in the slow cooker, I grabbed the bag to reward myself, only to find it empty.
Someone in my family not only put it away empty, they put the damned bag clip back on.
Those chips were the only treat I bought for myself. My spouse and children have multiple snacks, but for some reason my food goes first. None of them ever own up to it. My spouse tells me to get over it.
Of course, I have to let it go for now. There’s no time to buy more food, as we’re leaving on holiday early in the morning. My evening is going to be nothing but reminding them to pack, until I give up and pack for them. After all, we’re going to a cabin hours from anywhere, and they won’t be able to just go and grab something they need.
It’s midnight now, and I am the only one awake. The packing list is almost checked off, with only one item remaining.
“medications”
Unscrewing the caps, I empty the bottles into the bin. I’ll show them how much an empty container can hurt.
Most parents jumped at the chance to give their children an advantage.
The government offered free IVF to couples in exchange for the right to run gene experiments prior to implantation. This led to incredible new abilities, the most common being genius-level intellect. Some went beyond expectations, gaining telepathy or telekinesis.
But playing God has a cost, and no one paid more dearly than the parents of the first baby who did not need to sleep.
On Halloween I walked alone
Silent and bad-tempered
I was no longer a child
And nothing was as I remembered
Wandering past dark homes,
Having found the evening plain
I found the last road with lights still on
And drifted down Memory Lane
The first home was mine,
Before my parents downsized
The cookies taste like they used to
Before my parents died.
The next home was my best friend’s
Inseparable in in our youth
She gives me a slice of birthday cake
She was 12 when they moved
The third home was my teacher’s
I had decided he deserved a trick
I help him clean away the paint
His sin was merely being strict
I do not knock at the last, bright home
With towers and slides on display
It’s the house I once wished to live in
But it does not fit who I am today
On Halloween I walk alone
I watch the children with glee
it is not as I remember
but it is not only for me
The baby is asleep, the fridge is full of food and I have no ideas. I’ll be back tomorrow
There are miracles hidden within some of us that we may never know about. But some do make that discovery.
An average man stares at the empty portion of their brain scan, having never known anything was wrong. He will be told about the ability of a child’s brain to rewire after damage, and recall an accident as a child.
A woman holds her child, whose DNA proves is her sister’s. She is an only child. She will research chimerism and learn that she had a twin, now a part of her, that produced her child’s genes.
Today the winner of the genetic lottery is Trevor, who has just found out that he has situs inversus, or mirrored organs. Most importantly, this means that his heart is on the opposite side. This is, however, terrible news for the vampire hunter who has just lodged a wooden stake through the wrong side.
It took months to tell the doctor about the shadowy creature that stalks around my room at night. I was terrified that I’d gone crazy.
I’d lie in bed, paralysed and conscious as it meandered around my room. It was hard to tell exactly what it did: the light around it blurred, as though pulled into the darkness of its silhouette.
When my doctor explained sleep paralysis, I felt relieved. It was common, she said, to see shadowy figures and feel a sense of dread. She also prescribed something to help and I filled the prescription happily.
Last night I woke, paralysed but unable to see any figures in my room. The medication had worked!
I will never take it again.
I could not see the figure, so I could not see what turned the pages of my book, or stirred the water in my glass, or brushed the hair out of my unblinking eyes.
He came to town one day
stepping out from the mist
A man without a job or name
From a home that did not exist
Offering to make a deal,
To bargain for his supper.
But after every meal,
Our town grew little smaller
Anna made an offer first:
Tired of the farm and dirt,
Of hot days and endless thirst,
Anna wished to no longer work.
She gave him only scraps,
food too old to eat
and when she stood, she collapsed
to find she had no feet
Andrew made the second try
He wished for endless wealth
everything else would follow:
love, security and health
He offered a meal he’d burned
Never being much of a chef
So all the wealth he earned
Was insurance from his family’s death
I offered the final meal
Before anyone else could proffer
And only made my deal
So no one else would suffer
To the man I served a simple dish
Of vegetables, bread and game
But good enough for a single wish:
To wish he’d never came.
My last cross stitch
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