Maggie Meyers

There, as if peeking out of the blackness, were four to five sets of blinking, terrified eyes.

My father was a man of rough edges, not like I remember most of those edges when all I can remember in my child’s mind is being read bedtime stories at night, eating snacks together, and watching the news while…

I remembered my husband’s stern words from the week before: Always let me answer the door. At this time of night, you never know whom it could be, lurking out there.

It was obvious, from the start, that my poetic, writer-of-a-future-wife had placed notes for me.

Things are not always what they seem, and people are not always who they appear to be. The first time I can remember it happening, I was in kindergarten.

She never knew she had a father, and never asked about one.

“We share everything.”

My name is Kyle and I almost committed suicide when I was seventeen – but instead, I killed another human being.

I’m sure a lot of people were getting tired of his actions. I know I was.

Sometimes you don’t know how lucky you are.

I was always told that parents look out for you and that they are the only people in this dark, crazy world that we can trust.

The moment the priest walked through the door, he turned his nose up at the ceiling and a look of general distaste formed across his once expressionless face. He turned to look at my husband and I, but then caught himself and just nodded. “And who were the previous owners of this place?”

He yelled and drunkenly slurred something about, “One day you’re going to piss someone off with your little shenanigans and something bad is going to happen.”

That night I couldn’t sleep, as I heard screaming from the youngest, the female, and the distinguishable qualities of my Grandfather’s voice screaming obscenities as he clearly caused her pain for what I presumed were her evil actions.

“Well, if you want me to start at the beginning, I’ll uh…tell you a little bit about the job.

We were finally getting a baby and afterwards, she could disappear for all I cared.

I suddenly realized that I had stumbled onto the website of thousands and thousands of rapists.

I went to the treehouse and Jeffrey was reading his comics again, smiling when he greeted me. “Can I come sleep over tonight?”