Remember that time you wrote a story about your parents being eaten by a monster?
A monster that turned out to be an escaped tiger?
Oh, right.
That was me.
Sure, I changed the names to retain some integrity; but the description of the house, the family members, even the dog – well, it doesn’t take a genius to see what I meant.
We laugh about it now, of course – but when it’s dark and we hear rustling from the shrubs…
