Emma was furious that her father had remarried so soon after her mother’s death. She had put so much work into making the last one look like an accident
Terry was sure his ex wouldn’t be upset that he’d moved into the house across the street. He’d certainly paid the plastic surgeon enough.
The ever-growing song I sing to my son, to amuse myself:
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Row, row, row your boat
Right across the lake
If you see the Loch Ness monster
don’t forget to quake
Row, row, row your boat
Beside the highway
If you see Fresno Nightcrawlers
don’t forget to bray
Row, row, row your boat
gently down the river
If you see Bigfoot tracks
don’t forget to shiver
Row, row, row your boat
right across the sea
if you hear a siren sing
don’t forget to flee
Row, row, row your boat
under the moonlight
If you see the Mothman flutter
it’s time to say goodnight
Luke tried to make every birthday the best day he could for Sasha. It wasn’t easy after her mother’s passing, but he did his best to keep distract her from who was missing. It never worked. Every birthday ended the same: with a letter.
One letter from Sarah for every year her daughter grew up without her. A handwritten expression of love, grief, pride and hopes. Who she imagined her daughter would be at this age, age-appropriate advice, and stories from the few years they’d had together.
It didn’t matter if they were surrounded by friends and relatives, out all day or even on a holiday, Sasha would get her letter. She used to ask Luke to read it to her when she was too young, and she still passed the sealed envelope to him as part of the tradition.
Every year, Luke forced his voice to stop shaking as he read. He tried not cry at details only Sarah knew about their lives together. He read it loudly in order to drown out Sarah’s narration in his mind, the letter perfectly matching her mannerisms.
Luke dreaded the day Sasha moved out and spent a birthday without him there to read it to her. He had an equal fear that she would sooner find out how her mother had died.
It had been sudden and unexpected. It had left Sarah no way to say goodbye to her husband and young child.
But every year, the letter appeared under Sasha’s pillow.
Adam was scared about getting caught. He knew graffiti was wrong, but it was important to him to add the name to the wall.
He’d stuck behind after the tour guide described it. It was a list of everyone who had died on the temple’s grounds, whose souls were believed to remain there in eternal service. It was considered an honour to be so dedicated, the guide had explained.
Finished scratching in the name with his room key, Adam checked the shallow marks to make sure it was legible, then caught up with his mother, holding her sweaty hand. It was too warm to be wearing long sleeves, but she needed to hide the fresh bruises. His father walked ahead of them silently, begrudging them this tour as another apology.
Being young, Adam did not yet understand the difference between cause and effect. He understood that everyone listed on that wall died in the temple. He did not understand that the names were written after.
He watched his father swear as he stumbled and hoped he’d been clear enough.
“dad”
Anna had lived there forever
In the house with the light blue door
She offered every new neighbour a hand
but they always wanted more
The Sinclair twins would use her pool
Leaving puddles and towels sprawled
Anna asked them to clean up
But they left when their mother called
Mr Dickson borrowed her power tools
Anna asked for them when they spoke
He eventually replaced them with his own
and pretended he didn’t know how they broke
Ms Lincoln borrowed ingredients
Sugar, flour, peanut butter
but when Anna fell and cried out for help
Ms Lincoln silently closed her shutters
Mrs Kathy took hours of Anna’s time
Complaining about misconduct
But whenever Anna tried to talk in turn
Kathy told her it was rude to interrupt
When the newspapers filled with warnings
Anna told all about her shelter
It had enough room and food for all
As expected of their thankless helper
At midnight the sirens blared
They feared they’d be dead before the dawn
But Anna bid them welcome to her basement
And they waited in the dark for the power to turn on
It was perhaps an hour later
Still waiting for their host to provide
That someone found the door locked
and barred from the outside
Anna carried the key upstairs
and turned off the recording of sirens
perhaps she’d let them out
When she’d had enough peace and silence
Based on an earlier two sentence story
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.
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
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.
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