“Lights Out” by David Robert Kozma
“Who’s killing?” asked Cadence. “Who’s recording?”
“Why can’t we both kill them,” replied Remington, his twin brother. “We both killed our unborn sibling.”
“There was no recorder in mom’s tummy. One of us has to record.”
“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors,” suggested Remington. “Winner kills.”
“That’ll take hours. We tie on everything.”
“Then, let’s play lights out. That’s how we decided on who killed our dog.”
Cadence and his brother grabbed their glass jack-o-lanterns and lit them in the backyard. They held them up to the wind. Whomever’s light went out first had to work the camera.
Strangely, the wind blew both lights out at the same time.
“We tied!” shouted Remington.
“Well, you got your wish. We’re both killing them.”
They each grabbed their weapon of choice from the garage. Cadence grabbed his dad’s hunting bow and Remington picked up an axe. They went inside, turned off the lights, and waited in the dark for their parents to get home. It wasn’t long before they heard footsteps approaching the front door. They assumed position as the door opened.
There stood Beverly, their sister, whom they strangled in their mother’s womb before they were born. An umbilical cord was raveled around her neck and her skin was blue. She held up her glass jack-o-lantern with the light still lit and said: “I win. Winner kills? Right?”
Screams of two young boys filled the night. Screams that would haunt the neighborhood for years to come.