Seed

by Ania Ahlborn

It whispered to him: Close the door. It’s just your imagination. You don’t want to see what you’re afraid is here; and it’s too late to do a damn thing about it anyway.

and Jack would be left alone. But never really alone, that voice reassured him. I’ve always been here, and I’ll never leave.

“Oh God,” she cried into the dirty cotton of his work shirt. “This cannot be happening. This isn’t our family.” Inside his head, that little voice agreed with her sentiment. This was never your family, it whispered. It’s always been mine.

“Daddy,” she said, “it says collect all four.”