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…

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