I found a photograph of myself asleep in my bedroom with tomorrow’s date written on the back.
In the corner, someone had circled the space beneath my bed.
A photograph is supposed to freeze the past. These stories become frightening when the image knows more than the person looking at it.
It follows the house rule: exactly two sentences, with the turn doing more than adding a monster. It changes the reader’s interpretation of the setup.
Polaroid
The old Polaroid camera printed a picture before I pressed the shutter.
The Nursery
We removed every toy from our dead son’s room before putting the house on the market.
Morgue Tag
I laughed when my coworker stuck a toe tag on me during our overnight shift at the morgue.
Under the Bed
I held my breath when I heard slow breathing beneath the bed.
3:17
My alarm keeps waking me at 3:17 a.m. even though I deleted every alarm from my phone.