The Turn of the Key

How a tragedy hides inside an ordinary Tuesday.

This is the terrible thing about a tragedy. It isn’t with you every minute. You forget it, and then you remember it again.

The Last Thing He Told Me · Laura Dave

How many forks does it take to make a dinner party feel dangerous?

By the end of this night, if I have not stabbed Suzette with one of these forks, it will only be because I’m not sure which one to use to do it.

The Housemaid is Watching · Freida McFadden

The childhood game you’d play in a place that now frightens you.

I stood at the foot of the sloping bridge, gripping the stone wall for support. I was sure the maybe-officer had seen me, but I moved into the shadows of the trees bowing over the river’s edge anyway. From my peripheral vision, the black water of the Wentworth River glinted. As kids, Vee and I had crouched under this very bridge, catching crawdads from the riverbank by inserting sticks speared with hotdog pieces into the water. The crawdads had fastened their claws to the hotdog, refusing to let go even when we lifted them out of the river and shook them loose in a bucket.

Silence · Becca Fitzpatrick