I am your housewife.

We’ve been married for three months at this point.

You’re wearing a classless suit, feeling like a real man.

I, standing in a short dress, with an apron around my small waist, am baking blueberry muffins.

I’m gorgeous, or at least I have been told. 

As I center a muffin on the plate, you sit on the couch, reading the daily paper.

I stroll over and hand you the muffin as I sit alongside you. 

I gaze, mindlessly, at you.

You’re gorgeous, or at least by society standards.

“Honey,” I began as he shifts his attention to me.

“Would you still love me, be married to me, if I was a monster? Would you still love me if I destroyed us?”

I don’t know how those words came out of me, but he accepted them and leans over to give me a kiss on my pink lips. 

“I chose you to be my wife for a reason.”

I blush and took the muffin away from him before he could eat it. 

Later that night,

I throw away the muffins that were laced with mercury.

He cancels my appointment to be locked away in a mental institution. 

I’m so glad he’s giving me another chance – giving us another chance.

Happy Holidays

I’m not the best at giving gifts. I actually hate giving gifts and the holiday season that is surrounded by gift-giving. However, I wanted to try for you. I spent days searching the stores for a suitable gift for you, maybe even weeks. However, a gift came to mind when I saw you getting close with one of my co-workers, Ottessa. 

Ottessa was a new girl to the company I worked at. She was always running copies for the boss, taking calls for the boss and having private lunches with him. Everyone in the office suspected they were fucking each other, but no one had the bravery to ask and confirm it. Ottessa was a siren and I suspected, after having her way with the boss, she moved on to my boyfriend.

I noticed their abnormal relationship after she took it upon herself to visit me at my residence. She didn’t have an invitation and I’m still unsure how she got my address. But once she entered my home and made eye contact with my boyfriend, I knew things would go downhill from there. After that event, the two had been getting lunch together and she would even come over when I wasn’t at home. Also, My boyfriend had been less affectionate and would claim to be working ‘overtime’ at his job. 

I am definitely not stupid, but I love playing as if I am. So I let things slide and just put on a smile as I planned my gifts for the holiday season. 

The day of Christmas had arrived and I noticed my boyfriend had been feeling down lately. Ottessa has quit her job at my company and hasn’t been seen for days. Everyone at the office assumed she just ran off with some married man for the holidays and might appear again soon. 

On Christmas morning, I woke up early to make my boyfriend breakfast and served it to him in bed. He gave me a half-hearted smile and began eating.

“Would you like your gift now? I’m super excited to show you the gift I got you.” My boyfriend nodded and I ran to the living room to get his present from under the tree. The present was kind of heavy, around eleven pounds, and was very difficult to retrieve and wrap, but I had to do it for him. To show him how much I loved him. 

I placed it in his lap and he immediately began tearing at the wrapping paper. He stopped, in horror, when he realized what the present was. In a glass case, was Ottessa’s head, centered with her eyes scooped out of her eye sockets. Her eyes were placed in her opened mouth, on her dry tongue. On top of her bouncy, black curls was a note that said, Merry Christmas, Honey. He slowly looks up at me with his eyes filled with fear and his mouth open, unable to speak. 

I just wanted to give him a gift he would remember for years to come. And I think I succeeded. 

Dark Entity

During my childhood, I used to be scared of the dark.

Every child was at some point.

But I was particularly scared of a dark corner in my room.

Right between my white dresser and the pink wall across from my bed.

The darkness always confused and scared me.

Confused me because I felt like there was something there,

Scared me because I knew something was there.

From time to time, it would come out,

And stroke my dark hair while I was sleeping.

My parents reassured me that it was my grandma who passed when I was young.

But I knew it wasn’t her,

It couldn’t had been.


As an adult,

I travel through my life

Looking for the person in the shadow.

Looking for dark entities to make me feel like a child again.

Dark entities to make me feel safe and loved.

Over time,

I realized I need to become that dark entity.

The one who will love and protect me from the scary world we live in.

If I don’t love or protect myself first, who will?


“Why isn’t anyone listening to me? That is not my family! That isn’t my baby! They’ve been replaced, that’s not the child I gave birth to two months ago! Ok, since you’re having a hard time understanding me, I’ll tell you my story and what’s going on all over again.”

“I married my real husband, Freddie Taylor, on May 24th, 2014; it was a nice spring wedding. The wedding was rushed, only because I was with child and didn’t want it to be born out of wedlock; my parents are religious and pretty strict about things of that sort. However, before my wedding and before I found out I was pregnant, I got into a really bad car accident, which led to brain trauma. The pregnancy was a normal one, with normal symptoms and with a normal birth. My real daughter was born on her due date, December 21st, 2014 and her name is Amethyst Taylor.”

“The first night home was when the change, the switch, occurred. When I had fallen asleep, the real Freddie was next to me and the real Amethyst was sleeping in her bassinet inches away from our bed. After being asleep, I would say for four or five hours, I awaken to a baby crying. But the crying was coming from the living room and Freddie and Amethyst weren’t in the room. In a panic, I left the comfort of my bed and creeped downstairs, into the living room to find a man cradling a baby on the living room sofa. Hearing me enter the room caused the man to turn his head to face me and shine a bright, wide-toothed smile at me that made me sick inside.”

“But here’s the thing, Doctor, that wasn’t my baby or my husband on the sofa. It looked like them, yes, but it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t your baby or your husband, aurora?”

 “What do I mean? What do I mean it wasn’t them, Doctor? Why are you questioning me? Just listen to me and you’ll see.”

“As I stood in the hallway, the man turned his attention back to the baby. I took this opportunity to sneak back to the safe of my bedroom. I double checked the room, the bassinet and the bed, in hopes of finding my real husband and child, hiding within the room but to no avail. I laid in bed, questioning my sanity and if I’m dreaming. I know that isn’t my husband or child. They’re imposters dressed up as my real husband and child, but they don’t know I can see through their disguises.”

“Imposters with disguises?”

“Yes! Imposters with disguises, doctor! See you’re getting it!”

“After this incident, I felt a change within myself. I can’t describe it, but I just felt…off at my home and around the imposters. However, when I’m with other people, like family, friends and coworkers, I feel normal. I started changing my clothes a lot and talking out of context, to myself and others. Whenever I was ‘tasked’ to take care of the child, the imposter, I was always uncomfortable. Why would I take care of a child that isn’t mine? That isn’t my Amethyst? What if something bad happens to her or my husband? What if the imposters hurt them? Why are you questioning me, Doctor, and not getting the police involved to question them? “

“I have to do my job during the evaluation, aurora.”

“This stress about the state of my child and husband has made me depressed. I want my real family back, my real life back. I don’t want to keep going on with my life if I have to continue to live without my real family. My mental health hasn’t been doing well, which is why I am here now, but I reassure you that I will be perfectly fine once I find the real Freddie and Amethyst.”

“Based on this evaluation, your brain trauma and the symptoms you are describing to me, I am starting to believe you are suffering from Capgras Delusion.”

“Capgras Delusion? Can you explain further, Doctor?”

“Capgras Delusion is a delusional misidentification syndrome where individuals affected believe someone close to them has been placed with an exact duplicate. Some treatment options are validation therapy and antipsychotics”

 “Is that what you people think I have? I knew you all thought I was crazy, but I’m not. I know that isn’t my family!” Therapy and antipsychotics for treatment? There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m just a regular woman whose family has been taken away from her and replaced with imposters and I’m the problem? This is insane and you’ll hear from my lawyer about this.”

My Husband – Part Two

“Why would you marry a man that resembles the demonic force that tormented you as a child?”

Well, why do you drink water?
Why do you shower and cleanse yourself?
Why do you breathe?

You see, I can’t live without him.
I told the moon and the sun about him.
He visits my dreams, as I do his.
My soul, my body, my entire being is merged with his.

I haunt him.
Our spirits are bound together through an ancient blood ritual under the full moon.
He isn’t leaving me. Ever.

There is no ’til death do us part’
because I will always be with him and love him til and after death.
Our souls will continue to return to each other.

We are the demonic entity that haunted me as a child.

Caught up

I had just finished getting settled in our new penthouse when I heard you come in. I felt your energy linger closer and closer to me as I stood on the new balcony, overlooking the beach just below us. 

“You’re home early,” I said as his hands wrapped around my waist. 

“Yes, Gorgeous. I just had some business to finish up back home.” A smile grew on my face as I rest my head against his shoulders. I felt his lower body harden against me as one of his hands left my waist.

“Is that so?”  I teasingly press my hip against his.

“Mhm,” His voice is low and I feel his breath on my neck. “You know that’s a gun right, sweetheart?” 

Without giving me a second to process the words that came out of his mouth, I felt a hot piercing blow in my spine and my legs instantly dropped to the ground below. 

“You thought I wasn’t going to find out you were sleeping with my boss?” I look up at him, with pure hatred in my eyes, as he points the gun at my forehead.

“No, I thought you were too busy to care, asshole.” He rolls his eyes and slides the gun into his back pocket before grabbing my lifeless legs. He begins to pull me back into the penthouse. I try to fight, but I just accepted my fate. I knew I should’ve went for the receptionist at his job.


It’s the holiday season, a very special time of year for me. I remember my mother would always make a special meal for my father whenever their relationship got rocky. The meal would always snap him back in place and make him more in love with her.

She never gave me the recipe, but I remember a few key ingredients.

Parsley for better communication.

Paprika to heat up their relationship.

Celery to improve health.

Carrots for sweetness.

And a piece of meat for stability.

I always thought the store bought food wasn’t good enough for you, so I found alternatives like gardening and harvesting my fruits and vegetables. But you can’t garden or harvest meat.

As I pour a nice, big bowl of stew, you stay glued to your phone. A frown washes over across your face as you tell me about how your co-worker didn’t show up to work the past couple of days and how the entire office is worried about her. I placed the bowl in front of you as you continues to tell me the details.

“Enjoy.” Mindlessly, he dives his spoon into the stew and shovel it into his mouth. I observe as he chews and processes his food, slowly becoming more and more confused.

He puts down his phone and spoon and reaches into his mouth to pull out a human toe bone. As he analyzes the bone, he turns to me slowly and says, “how did you know?” With a smirk on my face, I shrug my shoulders and say,

“I just have good intuition, honey.”

Blood and Water – Part one

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let you do this to us .”

The duchess is dead and her entire party is sprawled across the ballroom floor, bodies cut in half, drained of blood. But how did we exactly get to this point?

You see, I just wanted to be friends, good friends at that. The Duchess and I met at Blooms Pond, a small stream surrounded by heavy vegetation and garden animals. I, fifteen and grieving the loss of my father, would visit the stream as a way to release my own woes into nature. One day, the Duchess stumbled across me attempting to take my own pain away and stopped me. She, being a royal and all, was such a gorgeous sight. She was the symbol of elegance and excellence, she walked in her own power and I felt like less of a human being when I was in her presence. 

“Duchess Freya, I’m sorry you must see me this way,” I pull myself from her grasp and attempt to treat my self-inflicted wounds. She fixes her ruffled hair and hands me a napkin. 

“What’s your name?” 


From that moment onto her death, she took me under her wing as her own. Maybe, deep down, I always had an idea of my plan to murder the Duchess and the entire court. She was able to get me access to the palace and I would spend all of my time with her.

During one of her baths, I was sitting on a stool near her as her maid washed her hair. Out of nowhere, She feels a sharp stab in her tooth, makes a high-pitch yelp as she grabs her chin. The maid and I rushed to her aid. The maid was new and was bewildered on what to do, so she decided to go find someone more reliable. I advise the Duchess to move her hand and I glide my hand softly and slowly against her chin, occasionally pressing the area until she notifies me that I found the tooth.

“Does this hurt?” I ask as I begin to stroll my finger across her back teeth. She doesn’t tell me, so I look up. Her mouth is wide open, with my thumb at the back of it. She is still and making direct eye contact with me. Saliva starts to pool in her mouth, so she slowly closes her mouth, with my thumb still in place, and swallows. The tension is building and she uses both hands to pull my thumb out of her mouth, sliding it against her tongue before meeting her front teeth. She doesn’t break eye contact and puts my hand on the rim of the bathtub. Eye contact is finally broken and the tension leaves as her maid and a senior maid enters the bathroom. 

“My lady,” the senior maid starts as she palms the Duchess’ face and pulls it towards her. “Are you hurting? What is this I hear about a pain in your tooth?” 

“I am fine, Jewela. Paris helped me.” The senior maid looks at me and looks away to brush me off. 

“Let’s get you out of this tub. Paris, I think it is time for you to leave.”

After that moment in the tub, the tension continued to build and we would spend even more time together. The Duchess would allow me to try on her dresses and gowns, but would be persistent that she zip up and take off my dress for me. She would always trail her finger tips slowly down my spine while zipping and it would cause my heart rate to quicken and chills to drive through my body.

“You look stunning,” The Duchess comments as I admire myself in the light blue satin nightgown. I watched as her eyes trailed me, from my tan neck to my petite breast to my sleeky thighs poking out from the bottom of the nightgown. 

“What are you looking at?” Her eyes pop up from my thighs to make eye contact with me from the mirror. I smirk and turn around to face her. “You like what you see?” I tease as I walk toward her royal vanity to begin taking off my facial enhancements. I can feel her eyes on me, even as I walk away from her. I hear her make a light chuckle and she strolls to the bed next to the vanity I’m sitting at and sits at the edge of the bed. 

` “Can I ask you a question?” The Duchess begins.

“Yes, you know you can.” For some reason, facial enhancements were difficult to take off this day and I decided to use another removal that the duchess owns.

“Have you ever had sex?” I stop moving and a weird feeling starts to form in my stomach. I never had this feeling before. “I know we have to save ourselves for marriage, but isn’t there a way to prepare for it?”
“What are you trying to suggest to me?”
“Can we?” She begins to play with her fingernails and stumble on her words. “Can we practice with each other? Teach each other?” The feelings worsens. What is going on with me? I felt this feeling with her before, but now it has intensified. I feel like I am going to throw up. I don’t know what to do, so I oblige. 

The Green Light

Anxious. Anxious! — terribly, terribly anxious. And you think I’m insane, doctor? You think I’m deranged? Ha! I’ve seen all the things the world has to offer and I’ve heard the voices from heaven and hell. And you — you, doctor! –You think I’m crazy? Hmp! Sit back and observe how calmly — collectively — I can tell you my bittersweet tale.

Now, Listen to me, I loved that man. I loved him so much that I bore him a little infant, but there was something about him that bothered me — angered me. What was it? Ah! It was his eye. When I first arrived at the ranch in New Jersey, surrounded by Oak trees and right behind a bright blue lake, he had opened the wooden door and looked at me– my heart soon froze over.  He had the eye of a beautiful, cold-blooded reptile, the kind that is able to kill you with one glare. But besides that, there was something else about his eyes that bothered me. What was it?  It was the green light. Yes, yes, it was the green light! I saw malice and envy in his eyes and I knew it — I felt I had to lead him to his demise.

Months went by, I planned his joyful death while he planned our sorrowful wedding. You see, doctor, I never planned on marrying the man. I only agreed to the arrangement because I was with a child and I didn’t want her to be born out of wedlock. Throughout our days, I would observe his ways from afar. From watching him drink his morning cup of green tea out of his favorite dark green tea cup to sitting on a log to see him chop down the oak trees with this rusty old axe while occasionally wiping sweat from his bushy, dark brown brows. I stalked and took in his every move like a fierce lion watching their upcoming prey. When he noticed my deadly eyes on him, he would give me a heartfelt smile that made me sick to my stomach. This man was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in all of my thirty-three years of life. 

Let me tell you doctor, my pregnancy was a strange one. Five months in, faint green lines began to form on my belly and spread like the roots of a tree.  I applied stretch mark cream religiously, but they never went away. And the vomit, oh, the vomit, was pure green! Even if I strictly stayed away from green foods, green liquid would somehow always appear. What was this man or this baby doing to me, Doctor?

Unfortunately, Our baby came before our wedding. She was my blessing from hell! Once she was placed in my arms I looked at her puffy, tan face — I looked into her brown eyes. And you know what I saw, doctor? I saw the green light — that damned green light! She has taken on his flaw, causing me pain! My first thought was to end her life right then and there, but I decided to let her live — it wasn’t her fault she inherited that flaw — it was her father’s. We named her emerald.

Now, doctor, let me tell you about our wedding day. My mind was set and the decorations were perfected. My dress was pressed and the guests were seated. Little emerald had on the cutest dark green dress — you should’ve seen her!

Once my makeup was finished and my veil was sewn into my hair,  I looked into the mirror and I saw it — I saw the green light in my very own eyes. He had given me the green light! I became vengeful and decided that at that very moment,  he must die. I fished around the drawers and cabinets of the church for a knife — I found a hunting knife and a switchblade. I hid it in my bridal garter and quietly searched for the man.

After a while, I found him. He was fixing up his black and green suit, but stopped when he noticed me in the mirror. What did he say? Oh! He called me darling and began to approach me before he noticed me pulling out the hunting knife. His facial expression hardens and he looks at the knife then to me.

He murmured something and I attacked. I made a lunge at him with the hunting knife tightly in my hand, aiming at him. He moved out of the way and grabbed me — throwing me against the wall and running away down the hall towards the kitchen. I steadied myself and chased after him. Surprisingly, doctor, I was able to catch up with him. I leaped onto his back and drove the knife into one of his broad shoulders. I did it again — and again — and again until he fell to the ground. Oh, you should’ve seen him, doctor, his suit was covered in blood and he was filled with agony — so much agony! I couldn’t help, but laugh!

Don’t get me wrong, He did put up a good fight, but it didn’t last long. He lied, sprawled out on the wooden kitchen panels, his green collar stained red and the green light shining bright — he had accepted his fate. I took the switchblade out and slowly kneel on the ground next to him, letting the polluted blood soak my pure white wedding dress. He was so, so beautiful and I adored him, but he must die — in agony. I held the switchblade in my hand and drove it into his left eye. He hollered as I jammed and twisted the knife through the soft, squishy flesh of his eye. I swiftly took the blade out when I hit a bone and put it in his right eye, going through the same motions as I did with the left eye.  He didn’t cry this time. I left the blade in his eyes and looked at him. He was dead — he was beautiful — he wasn’t a problem anymore. 

My wedding dress and  my veil was covered in cool blood — his blood. I turned and saw my emerald. Her stuffed face was blank and her eyes were on her father’s corpse. But, doctor, I noticed — the green light — the green light was gone. It was gone! His demise caused the death of the green light! I also noticed — as she continued to look at her father’s body — that she was smiling — from ear to ear — she was smiling. I smiled before picking up my daughter and walked downstairs to attend my wedding. I couldn’t be late to my own wedding.

Now, doctor, do you still think I’m insane?