Filthy, and with matted hair, the children walked down the street. No one else seemed to notice them, so I approached. They stared at me through narrowed eyes. For three days they followed me everywhere, never saying a word, nor ingesting anything as far as I could tell.
By the end of that third day I’d had enough. When I confronted them, they still stared, unspeaking. Eventually, I’d become fed up and turned away. In unison, they finally spoke. Just three words. “Helen sent us.”
Helen was my wife, until the day I killed her.
They haven’t left me since.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
Yes, I know. It’s been a long time since I’ve participated, but I’m back now, and I come bearing gifts.
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