“Perfect,” the boy thought as he walked away, eagerly awaiting the next full moon.

Looking at his wife and daughter suspended over vats of the same acid he’d thrown on her face when she’d rejected him, she replied “soon you won’t recognize them, either.”

As the baby began to squeal for sustenance, the priest announced, “The Holy water didn’t work, so our only chance is to bless these.”

“Your mother wasn’t helping you fly," Mom whispered, "she was hanging you."

As the elderly man in front of me broke down crying after I finished my sentence, I found it odd how similar he looked to an elderly version of my own little brother.

The bride stopped smiling when the groom said it was the same ring he'd buried with his first wife.

Then they got rid of what was left of their son and cleaned up before reporting him missing.

"Thank you for telling me, sir, but I keep telling you, if you don't remove his head and burn his heart, he will keep coming back."

After spending a moment gazing at him, I watch a beetle crawl from his ear and realize that he looks a little fatter than usual, and he didn’t come into bed last night.

(This is my first story, I do not plan on making more.
Just had an idea and wanted to run with it, please don't be mean. Originally posted to r/TwoSentenceSadness and was referred here.)

a part of me took a notice of everyone holding their stones tighter.

As their forms shifted, loving hands becoming jagged claws, mouths once full of kind words now brimming with an impossible number of serrated teeth, she realized they knew exactly what their real mother considered respect--blood spilled, and flesh consumed.

I know, the old lady thought as she pointed her gnarled finger at the dog and watched its teeth fall out, one by one.

"Her name was Emily when she was alive."

Dolly wasn’t at the office the next day, but she left a note on her desk: “9-5 isn’t a way to make a living; all company treasury wired to Dolly’s private account.”

Why won't the pain in my left arm go away???

I think he was just testing to see how long they took, because tonight he broke in.

As the glossy film developed in her hand, it revealed a tall, emaciated figure standing perfectly still in the corner, holding up a sign that read, "I can see you too."

Years later, I returned to our basement playroom to find them still small, quiet, and completely motionless.

"And up until midnight on your 17th birthday," said his dad as he clicked the killswitch, "you belong to me."

But that was one of those "insensitive" questions I only felt comfortable sharing with my twin sister, along with my confusion as to why she wasn't in any of my childhood photos.

I had barely made it a few feet into the tunnel when it was wracked with tremors, and as I turned around to leave I saw the little boy disappear as the entrance collapsed behind me.

They couldn't believe she was still alive after they carved her up like that.

I restrained a giggle while I uncapped the hydrochloric acid and began pouring it into the metal cylinder listening for her gagging to turn into choking.

Today I came home from work to find my broom missing and the bedroom window of our 11 story apartment wide open.

It was only after everyone left the room that the digital display flickered, revealing the system had been unplugged for hours and the rhythm was coming from somewhere beneath the floorboards...