Micro-Fiction – 7

It wasn’t so much the man in my house. It wasn’t even about how he had gotten in. 
It was that how only I could see his mangled self.

He was breathing heavily. A thin wooden door separated us. Then his arm smashed through the door, through me. 
For a brief second, I saw my own heart.

It felt strange to return home. The furniture, wallpaper, everything was different. 
“The game will now begin”, announced a robotic voice.

Wide-eyed with fear, I looked into her eyes in the rear view mirror, even as her hand tried to choke me, and said “But you’re dead already!”

His fingers traced her spine. His lips gently kissed her collarbone. She sighed. If only she could see him. But he remained invisible.

Dust gathered in large brown clouds. “They’re coming,” she said ominously. I didn’t dare ask who. Her tone made sure that I was afraid.

She dreamt often of a burning field and a child laughing. The laughter was.. disturbing. She didn’t know she would soon conceive this child.

She felt a chill and opened her eyes. She looked around and saw bodies lying all around her. It was an open cemetery. “But why am I here?”
An arm reached out. She recoiled. Before she knew it, the hand pushed her against a rock, smashing her skull. 
Mashed brain tasted good.
The pain didnt overwhelm her as much as the disgust she felt when the corpse lifted its head with its mouth covered in grey and red pulp.

My two year old insisted he heard knocks. “But darling, that used to be your grandma’s room. It’s been locked for years.”


The spiders spun webs in her hair. One could see them on new moon nights, when they descended to the corners of her mouth to drink venom.


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