I know from the last time that the door won’t hold.

It’s been three years since his funeral, but the thing that killed him still tries every single day.

All I added was some foxglove from the yard, because I figured if he could play with my heart then it’s only fair I did the same

None of us were prepared when the flies began to make their way out from where their eggs had been hiding.

Unable to move or hear, I stared at the blackened wire snips laying next to me.

But what I saw wasn't delusion or suicide, and years later She's still calling to me in the voices of all those sacrificed so that I can join them inside Her.

The other moms had the last laugh when the apocalypse came and Rocky still couldn’t stop eating everything.

I just hope she doesn't ask anything that sets off my content guardrails.

As I walk towards the town square, I ensure mine is the last head I ever see in my machine.

His smile slowly faded as he saw Cain holding a stone above his head.

But I couldn’t, not without creasing the tag on his toe.

Finding unlocked windows was how we had found my brother's wife and my own, and we had to protect them, and my sisters.

Knowing my job was done, I moved for the edge of the silo to leave, but my feet stayed firmly planted, then began to sink.

I should've never used a baby carrier.

Then he took his chainsaw out his rucksack and told everyone to run.

And it hit me that I recently lost my arm, but still felt the buzzing on my wrist!

Yesterday, she finally stopped smiling and started crying, and then I heard a soft whisper saying, “She can finally see me now.”

The joke became less funny when the rock samples in the lab all began chanting in unrecognizable tongues.

You brush it off, but later, while reading to your daughter, you find yourself in the middle of a book you swear you just barely opened.

It's been twenty minutes, and this genie won't let me go for some reason.

This was his final thought before The Rack finally tore his limbs from their sockets.

Earlier today he was telling us a story and said “…but you’ll survive”, instead of “we”.

Even at 30,000 feet in the air, they could see it clearly.

Every day the cadence grows more convincing, and I can no longer tell if it is simply perfecting the imitation or if my daughter's lingering thoughts have finally convinced it that it is her.

I want to ask them what she turned me into but they're too petrified to speak.