I woke up to the sound of hammering. After that I could barely hear the sound of dirt covering my coffin over my muffled screams.
I begin tucking him into bed when he tells me, “Daddy, check for monsters under my bed.” I do it for his amusement and see him, another him, staring at me, quivering with fear and whispering “Daddy, there’s somebody on my bed.”
My daughter won’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I visit her grave and ask her to stop, but it doesn’t help.
There is a picture in my phone of me sleeping. I live alone.
My wife woke up to tell me there was an intruder in our house. She was murdered by an intruder years ago.
I tuck my daughter into bed and she says “Goodbye, daddy.” I tell her that at nighttime we say good night, but then she says “No daddy, tonight it’s goodbye.”
The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.