I got into an argument with my friend Wil on Facebook last week while I was supposed to be working overnight security at the zoo. It’s an easy job: nobody ever breaks in and the animals never break out. I literally get paid to spend my entire shift writing horror stories sometimes, and if I’m not doing that, I’m watching Netflix or porn on my phone. I wish what I was about to tell you was just more of my fiction. I wish it weren’t true.
Category: Deranged Psychosis (Page 1 of 3)
This all began when I was a kid — back when I used to think that the Moon followed me. I’d watch it pass through the clouds as my mother drove her aging sedan down the dark highways, always keeping pace with her erratic turns and speed changes … never falling behind. I’d watch it through the rear window, bouncing from treetop to treetop in time with my bounces in the backseat. Tagging along as the car leapt potholes and divots on the midnight country roads where we sent gravel and dust billowing out behind us.
I was in the break room munching my way through a kale and cranberry salad. Several of my coworkers sat at the lunch table. Mostly I keep to myself because I much prefer being left alone than being drawn into the droll of their banal conversation.
“Did anyone notice that Carl’s been missing?” Karen asked the room.
I wrote a longer version of this story a while ago. It has been edited and condensed to be less than 500 words
Everyone told me: Don’t meet dates online. I’d fucked every eligible man on this coast before finally settling down. Before I met my man, my sexlife was boring as shit. I’m devoted now. No secrets. My husband knows my past, so ‘come for me,’ haters! We’re celebrating 2 years!
If you know Jack Fordham in Braden County Kentucky, please make sure he gets this message:
I’m not coming back. Please don’t try to find me. I had so many things that I wanted to say to you but I couldn’t for obvious reasons. I didn’t leave this note at the house, that was for obvious reasons also. I hope that one of your friends finds this somehow and gets it to you.
My brother is Officer Jake Swanson. He’d just graduated from the academy…only just earned his badge. He’d begun his first shift with his field training officer when about an hour in, responding to a call from a pair of campers, they went to that house in the woods. It was his first and last day on the job when he made the gruesome discovery that should be national news.
I just want to make one thing clear: I’m not sick. I think a sick person wouldn’t be able to recognize the difference between right and wrong. I knew what I did was wrong before I did it. I also knew there wouldn’t be any consequences, I suppose. Nobody was ever going to know.