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What Monsters Do Come.
2003-08-06 at 9:15 p.m.

Couple Finds Remains of 3 Infants in Old Trunks

"The family's reaction is complete surprise that there may have been [the remains of] small children [in the storage cases]," says a cop. "They're in shock. They're stupefied and stunned by this." Officials believe the infants have been dead for at least ten years.(Minneapolis Star Tribune)

The story can be found at the link made from the title of this entry, however it requires a registration-so the blurb may suffice to give you some idea of what the story is about.

Certain stories stand out in bold relief when certain eyes, like Indrid's, fall on them.

One imagines Granny with the nighttime ritual, putting the big kids to bed, and how she'd tell them to behave and go to sleep or perhaps some monster would come and suck the breath out of them.

Maybe the monster came.

The monster came smelling of White Shoulders perfume and mothballs, with efferdent breath and a death knell clanking on a chain around the neck, it's lenses catching the light.

The monster came perhaps with a comforting pillow and held it placidly in place until the kicking ceased.

Then the monster cooed the kiddies who didn't behave to their most quiet sleep in in the grave of a classic old steamer trunk tucked away in the attic.

Let's all hail the day that finally brought the monster to light after it had been feted at death as a good christian woman and sent on to Jesus draped in fake pearls and mortuary pancake.

The day someone opened the trunk and was greeted by the long smothered screams of infant ghosts rocketing out in blind vengeance.

Perhaps her reward is to wake in the silence of the grave with the comforting satin pillows cushioning and be made to hear each thump and clatter as the clods of earth tumble back into place. While the faces of the ones who didn't behave hang in the immense darkness before her forever, silent, accusing, blank.

What manner of horror can come in the most pleasant of houses after sundown? Indrid-Cold pitys those who know.

He hangs in the rafters, like Grendel's arm, humming a dirge he once heard playing on a music box in a good christian old woman's room.




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