The Twisted Ones

by Scott Cawthon

She removed the pillowcase gently, taking care not to let it catch on anything. Beneath their shroud, the faces, blank and sightless, were placid; they looked like they could wait, ever listening, for eternity. Charlie switched them on, and bent over to watch as they began to move their plastic mouths without sound, practicing. Where? said the first. Here, said the second. Where? said the first again. Charlie drew back. Something was wrong with the voice; it sounded strained. Here, repeated the second. Where? said the first with a rising intonation, like it was growing upset. That’s not supposed to happen! Charlie thought, alarmed. They shouldn’t be able to modulate their voices. Where? the first wailed, and Charlie stepped back. She leaned down slowly to peer under the desk, as though she might find an entanglement of wires that would explain the strange behavior. As she stared, puzzled, a baby began to cry. She stood at once, knocking her head painfully on the edge of the desk. The two faces looked suddenly more human, and more childlike. One was crying, the other watching with an astonished look on its face. “It’s okay,” said the calmer face. “Don’t leave me!” The other wailed as it turned to look at Charlie. “I’m not going to leave you!” Charlie cried. “Everything will be okay!” The sound of crying swelled, higher and louder than human voices should be, and Charlie covered her ears, looking desperately around for someone to help. Her bedroom had darkened, and heavy thi...