They came first with the flowers and the bees. No one knew they were here. But I saw them.
And I saw them coming when they returned the next year. That’s when they took me.
When they finished – when I was all used up – I woke up in my bed, beside my husband, with our son between us. Like it always was. Like we always were.
But I wasn’t the same.
The snow melted today.
“No… please… I’ll come… just… just don’t take my son. Don’t take them.”
I’m sorry Megan. We’re taking everyone.
Author bio: Ryan Henry Cox is a musician and writer working out of Detroit, MI.
Contact is part of 101 Fiction issue 3.