Fiction—“Do you trust in Jesus?”
Father McConnell asked the boy, and the boy said "Yes, yes, yes," and the pastor, content, dipped the boy into the lake before a happy congregation. They pretended not to notice when little arms and feet began to thrash below the water.
The good doctor cleaned the morgue meticulously, as she did everyday at 4:35pm, packing away the fresh body parts of her most recent patient in her lunch cooler turned to-go container.
Mr. Peter Morgan's kidneys would do nicely as an hors d'œuvre for her dinner party tomorrow.
Your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. They really match the vase I've put them in.
I opened the cabinet, my stomach growling in anticipation. But, to my despair, all that remained in the container were a few cookie crumbs.
The sound of a giggling child sounds in the baby monitor beside me on the end table, which sends chills of fear down my spine. Because the baby I'm watching, the only child in the house, is laying next to me in this silent living room sleeping.
"Doctor, what do you mean 'It's not ear wax?'"
"I don't know what it is, but it's alive, and burrowing deeper!"
"There's times I miss you so much," I sighed as I stared at the forest beyond my window. "I wish I remembered where I hid your body."
What Have I Done?
With a hiss of steam, a ratcheting and a clank of steel, my creation turned its enormous head toward me, the eye-slit in its faceplate revealing a yellow, watery, and all-too human eye. As it rose, I realized with horror that neither sanity nor compassion were evident in its gaze.
Don’t Trust the Cloud
You told me that those nudes would stay private. I can't believe I trusted you.
My hand trembles just a little as I stroke the marvelous little cheek beneath the water's surface. So peaceful is my baby girl now that I've silenced her forever.