The Journal of Ana, Natalie and Nathaniel Thompson

She did not ask for the twins. They did not ask for her.
First, they wilt together and the demons prosper.
Second, they dispose of her.
Once palmed off to their aunt, they grow. They become stronger. Minds entwined, like fingers and hands.
And soon their screaming of god and death and the devil break their aunt.

She calls the priest.


7. PART 7 - ANA

The biggest problems started to arise when the twins turned six. Natalie would bring dead animals home, and insist that they were for dinner. It was the same routine everyday, I would scold her, throw away the dead, putrid thing, then wash the congealed blood from her tiny hands.

"Why can't you play with dolls, like normal girls?" I sighed. I noticed she had a bruise on her arm. I pulled her sleeve up as she tried to squirm away. "Who did this?" 

"You!" she screamed, breaking free of my grasp. I flinched, and grew silent. 


That night I decided I was done. I laid in bed for a while, but opened my eyes to the twins standing in my room, holding hands. 

"Let's sing mummy a song." Natalie suggested. The began to sing. I didn't understand the language, let alone the words.

"Get out." I whimpered. Tears dampened the bed sheets. Their twisted souls carried on with the unknown words.

"GET OUT!" I screamed. They didn't stop singing for hours, and though Nathaniel grew tired, Natalie's grip on his hand did not loosen.

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