Summer of the Monsters

by David Sodergren

“Only until it stops raining,” she said, though she hadn’t realised how tired she truly was. If she had, she would never have closed her eyes. For as the rain fell, and the sun dipped fully below the trees, something diabolical disturbed the darkness of the forest. And this time, there was nothing to stop them.

Maybe crying was okay on a first date. But, she supposed, only if earlier in the evening you had killed a monster with a pitchfork to save your daughter. Then — and only then, she decided, as her own eyes filled with tears, and she joined them on the couch — was crying on a first date acceptable.