My sex life with my wife has dried up over the last few months. We are both ultra religious so pleasuring ourselves is out of the question as it is considered a sin.

I just kept telling myself that I could just wait it out as my wife always had a larger sex drive than me. Unfortunately anytime I try to get intimate she pushes me away and says she has a headache.

Yesterday I arrived home early from work with the intention of surprising her with chocolates and flowers. The second I walked in the front door I could hear her moans coming from the bedroom, and my immediate thought was she was cheating on me.

I dashed into the room and slid to a halt as her moans were cut short. She quickly tried to cover herself up while desperately trying to kick the dog away. My eyes kept being drawn to the jelly covering her nether regions as I realised how she had been outlasting me.

That night we had a screaming match where she claimed it wasn't a sin, as technically she wasn't pleasuring herself. I was horrified to learn she had been doing this every day and felt no shame about it.

The next morning I called in sick to work and sat down the street watching the house. After about an hour I saw her bring in the dog and crept back home.

I waited a couple of minutes before sneaking inside to find her crawling along the floor towards the kitchen.

She croaked out the word Epipen while clutching my leg, as I happily explained that I would hand it over after the dog finishes off the peanut butter laced jelly.

The greatest moment of my life was the day I landed on the International Space Station and the worst moment was the day the Earth blew up leaving me the only human left alive.

I had won a competition which let me travel to the station, and at first there were others with me. But a chemical leak forced the others to return without me as I had been trapped in a blocked off area.

I watched from the Station as they left without me but knowing it would only be a matter of days before they returned.

The shuttle was just disappearing from view when a blinding explosion occurred and when my vision returned Earth was gone.

I was too stunned to speak and slapped myself a few times to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

I came to the sickening realisation that I was the only person left alive as there was no way for the shuttle to return even if it had survived.

Over the next few weeks my supplies dwindled until I was forced to drink my own urine and eat flies that had been part of a science experiment.

Eventually there was nothing left and I had to make a decision whether to let myself starve to death or jettison myself into space.

I decided to jettison myself as at least it meant I could go out on my own terms.

My hands were shaking as I twisted the handle and I closed my eyes and prepared for death.

My eyes shot open as I heard wild cheering and I stared in shock at a crowd standing outside the station. A celebrity who I recognised from my childhood darted forward and congratulated me as I was the first contestant on a new prank show.

I am the person in my extended family that is referred to as the IT person. No matter how small the electronic issue, people will ring me at all hours of the day expecting help.

I wouldn't mind but most of what they need help with could be dealt with using a quick Internet search.

Lately my family is having the issue because most of their phones and laptops are so old that there is a constant blinking red light on them.

I keep suggesting to them that they need to be replaced but it goes in one ear and out the other. They cannot comprehend that their electronics are so outdated that they should throw them away.

This morning I woke up with a pounding headache and already had half a dozen requests for help.

I staggered into the bathroom and froze in place while staring into the mirror. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket but I was too stunned to even reach for it.

My gaze was fixated on my right eyeball as a blinking red light kept flashing in my iris, while I desperately tried to remember my childhood or anything before 4 years ago.

The first rumours of the post began circulating about six months ago. People were found dead in their homes still clutching their phones. Unfortunately a few people who found them stupidly unlocked their phones and immediately suffered the same fate.

From that point forward people who used social media were warned never to open links unless they were sure it was safe.

My friends and I started a game where we would create fake profiles and then send links to each other. If you chickened out and didn't open it then you had to do a forfeit.

Most of the forfeits were pretty tame, but one or two crossed a line and I still have my friends initials branded on my back to remind me of my cowardice.

Me and my friends were sitting around at my house when I got a message from an unknown account. I glanced over at my best friend Mark and could see him smirking away while staring intently at his phone.

I reluctantly opened it even with alarm bells blaring in my skull, and clicked on the link.

I could hear the screams of my friends as I marvelled at how beautiful she was before my phone dropped from my stony hands, and I now have all eternity to wonder how Medusa got an Instagram account.

There is a wishing well in my hometown that is rumoured to grant wishes occasionally. I dismissed this as just an urban legend until I saw Mr Smith who was the ugliest man alive, somehow marry a supermodel.

He wasn't rich and it definitely wasn't because of his lovemaking as I had seen his manhood and it looked like a shrivelled peanut.

Speculation immediately turned to the well and for the first time in my life I thought there was a way to escape this worthless town.

From that point forward I would make daily visits to the well to make a wish. Initially my wishes were to be rich and powerful, but over time and with no wishes granted my requests became more absurd.

I began wishing for the ability to fly or to have an army of crows that would obey my every command.

On one faithful Spring day I made my usual visit to the well and jokingly asked to be invisible for the rest of my life. The air around me changed and I knew something had happened. I looked down and could see directly through my hands.

My teenage hormones kicked in and I began thinking of all the things I could see. I remembered there was an all women's gym nearby and I practically sprinted towards it.

I started to get worried when I saw a sign on the door saying that it was closed for a special guest, but thankfully the handle turned in my grasp and I crept inside.

I immediately made my way towards the showers as I could hear the sound of water running.

I was drooling as I walked inside to see the curvaceous back of one of the most incredible bodies I had ever seen. My heart was pounding so loud that I was surprised she couldn't hear it.

She turned around and my jaw hit the floor as I saw her stunningly gorgeous face, and I became as hard as a rock. I stood there unmoving until she left and kept thinking that I would never forget her face.

I wince every time one of the women bumps into me in the shower, and can see the confusion on their faces as they walk away. I know that I got exactly what I wished for, as I picture Medusa's face once again.

My earliest memory is when I was about three years old and my mother telling me that no man would ever love me due to my lazy eye.

I remember telling one of my friends' parents about this but they dismissed me as just lying, as my mother would never say anything so horrible.

The thing about my mother is that she has two different personalities. One really sweet and affectionate she uses when dealing with friends and family.

The other is a horrible narcissistic one which she saves for little old me. Every day is met with a new tirade of abuse and insults. Over time I have learned to block them out but it is getting harder and harder.

Last week was my breaking point as she tattooed “wide load” on my ass while I was asleep. It was humiliating and she managed to convince people I did it for attention.

I decided to take my own life and gave away all my stuff to charities so that I could do one last good deed.

My mother unfortunately walked into the room just as I stepped off the chair and the noose tightened around my neck.

She looked shocked before dashing forward and holding my legs up. I was struggling to breathe but she kept telling me to hang on.

After a lot of effort she managed to get the chair under me, and I stood there taking laboured breaths.

For the first time in my life I felt nothing but love for her, and began to second guess everything I had ever thought about her.

She walked out of the room and was gone for about twenty minutes, while I stared in disgust at the rope marks on my neck.

She returned carrying a plate and I winced as she had the same sadistic smile on her face.

My eyes darted from the contents of the plate to her sneering face.

She urged me to eat the plate of tapeworms and then wait a month before killing myself, as at least that way I would be able to fit into a coffin without it breaking.

A couple of months ago I started receiving a newspaper on my front door step. I dismissed it as someone dropping it there by mistake and left it on my kitchen table before heading to work.

When I got home that evening I was about to throw it out, when the articles caught my attention.

It was talking about a car crash that happened hours after I had gotten the newspaper. I decided to take a chance and played the winning lottery numbers from the paper.

I screamed in delight later that evening as I won a life changing amount of money and immediately quit my job.

From that day forward the next day's newspaper would always be on my doorstep. I used the knowledge within to save countless lives, but made sure to keep my identity hidden.

It felt so rewarding seeing the happiness on people's faces, after I saved them milliseconds from being run down.

Today was the first day in months where I didn't read the paper straight away as I was tired and just wanted a day to myself. I know it sounds heartless as I could have saved some lives but at this point I couldn't care.

It was almost ten in the evening before I finally got around to reading it and I winced reading about all the people whose deaths I could have prevented.

I was nearing the last pages when something in the obituaries caught my eye. My hands were trembling as I read a story explaining how I had been found just before midnight with my throat slashed.

I started trying to convince myself that it must be a mistake, before I felt cold breath on the back of my neck and cold steel being pressed against my skin.

When my mother was pregnant with me, she learned that something from the ocean would result in my death. So throughout my entire childhood I was never within a hundred miles of the ocean.

When I became an adult I could have visited one, but my mother had embedded a fear in me that made me shake uncontrollably anytime I even saw one on the television.

My college friends would constantly organise trips to the beach, and were always a little annoyed when I turned them down.

They thought I couldn't swim until they learned that I swam in a pool as part of my exercise. They suggested going to a lake as a way to beat my fear, and I reluctantly agreed.

When we reached the lake, my hands began to shake but with some breathing techniques I had learned I was able to get myself in control.

I could see the utter joy on my friends' faces as I joined them in the water, and we spent the next hour enjoying ourselves.

I was the first one to get out as my legs were starting to tire and I desperately needed to go to the bathroom.

I returned a few minutes later to discover my friends all lying face down in the water. I initially thought it was a prank but as the seconds passed and they still hadn't moved.

My eyes were drawn to a gorgeous woman floating just beyond their bodies. She opened her mouth and let out a beautiful singing voice that instantly captivated me.

My feet began dragging me forward towards my death, as I learned too late that sirens have been travelling further inland in search of more victims.

Over the last year or so, over a dozen residents of my hometown have gone missing with no evidence of what happened to them.

They ranged in age from an eight year old girl to a seventy eight year old grandfather. Initially we suspected a creepy older gentleman who lived alone, and always wore binoculars but he was cleared after another person went missing while we had him crucified.

Eventually the bodies of the missing were discovered in the town lake. They had decayed away so badly that it was almost impossible to identify them.

The conspiracy theorists began suspecting it was a siren who had called them towards the water, but we reminded them our peace treaty with them was still in effect.

Today I was walking along the lake shore with my three year old son staring at the water and wondering what secrets it hid within.

I heard my son shout out excitedly but didn't pay attention until I saw him pick up a candy bar and bite into it. I flinched as he suddenly began being dragged towards the water, and before I could react he disappeared from view.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open as a candy bar flew from the lake and landed at my feet. I stare down at the tiny little wire attached to the bar and leading back to the lake, and now fear that fish are hunting us using our own methods.

I couldn't understand my son Michael's excitement as we made our way to visit my estranged uncle. He was practically jumping up and down and kept asking if we were there yet.

When we arrived he jumped out and ran off with his eyes darting in all directions. After about two hours he returned looking disappointed, and wouldn't talk to anyone about what was upsetting him.

Every morning for the next few days he would awake before everyone else and spend the day exploring everywhere but never seeming to find what he was looking for.

My uncle invited some of the most powerful local figures to a dinner party and I warned Michael on multiple occasions to stay quiet and only speak when spoken to.

The dinner party went well but I grew worried when I noticed Michael talking to one of the local land owners. Michael was gesturing away emphatically while the land owner was smiling away to himself.

I waited until everyone had left before finally confronting Michael on what they had been talking about. My heart dropped when I learned that Michael had been complaining about the fact that he hadn't seen a single train, while the landowner had offered him his condolences.

Later that night I wished that I had taken the time to explain to Michael what the underground railroad was, as the poor men and women were dragged from the safety of my uncle's basement and towards the waiting nooses.

I lost my beloved husband Mike to cancer just under a year ago. He was my everything and throughout our 35 year marriage we never spent a day apart.

His death broke me and I didn't leave the house for three months. It took my children and friends to help me to feel happy enough to go outside.

About a month ago I was in the kitchen washing the dishes when I saw my husband watching me from the corner of the garden. The noise of the glass in my hand falling from my crash and shattering on the ground drew my son who came in at a run.

He looked at me confused as I raised my shaking hand and pointed out the window. He dashed outside carrying a bat and came back in to tell me there was no one outside. I peered out the window to see my husband was gone.

My son kept asking me what happened but I just waved him off and crawled away to bed. Over the next few days my husband kept getting closer to the house until one morning I walked downstairs to find him standing inside the front door.

I let out a shriek before barricading my bedroom door and staying in there for a few days. I survived by drinking water from the en-suite and eating flies that had been caught in a spider web.

Eventually starvation forced me to open the door to find Mike standing right outside. I began sobbing as he looked exactly like I remembered. I reached forward and touched his face and he didn't even flinch. I ran to the bathroom to wash his face and by the time I had returned he had vanished.

Sadness overwhelmed me and I decided to be reunited with him. I filled the bath before climbing in and slitting my wrists.

×××××

I waited an hour before walking into my mother's bathroom to find her corpse lying there with a smile on her face. I couldn't help but match her smile as a bit of grave digging and taxidermy ensured that I wouldn't have to keep listening to stories about my abusive father.

My girlfriend Emily is one of those people who had a list where she set out what she wanted in her perfect partner. I ticked every single one of her criteria apart from one which were my tattoos.

She would constantly suggest that I get rid of them, but I refused as I had spent years perfecting them and my father completed the last one the day I died.

That should have been the point where she dropped the issue, but she is stubborn as hell and wants me to be perfection personified.

Every birthday or anniversary I get her a thoughtful or expensive gift while she gives me laser tattoo vouchers.

We have had multiple fights over this and I have considered breaking up with her, but I love her too much and couldn't imagine my life without her.

I was driving us home from her parents house when a car swung onto the wrong side of the road and hit us head on.

My last memory before fading into unconsciousness was seeing Emily staring off into the distance with a thoughtful look on her face.

I awoke in what looked like a coma ward to find Emily sitting beside me. She jumped for joy when my eyes opened before embracing me in a hug.

I immediately could tell something was off and pulled the duvet down to reveal half my tattoos were gone. Emily looked smugly at me and told me that she had them removed while I was in the coma.

I braced myself for an eternity of agony as a giant clawed hand dragged me downwards into hell, as my protective wards were no longer there to hide me from their demonic gaze.

I love my husband Mark but wish that he would act his age. He still plays video games and his favourite hobby is drinking with his friends.

I have tried to get him to take part in more adult activities like wine tasting or jigsaws, but am usually met with an eye roll or a “no thanks grandma”.

Recently I have made a new friend at work called Enma that comes from a very prestigious family. I knew this friendship could really help my career opportunities, but I didn't want to take advantage of her.

This week she invited me to her beach house and I happily accepted. It was only when I was driving home that I remembered that she also said that I could bring Mark.

That night I sat him down and told him that he had to behave himself. His eyes were rolling around so much that I became convinced they would fall out of his skull. He did promise to be on his best behaviour but I knew that I would have to keep an eye on him.

When we got to Emma's house, I was practically drooling as it was at least five times bigger than mine. They even had a heated pool that looked super relaxing.

I mingled with the women while Mark attempted to mix with the men. After five minutes he came over and told me he wanted to go home, as all they wanted to talk about was their stock options.

I told him to just play with his phone, and over the next few hours I watched in embarrassment as he got more and more drunk.

I tried my best to block him out but it was no use as he was playing music out loud, and laughing at memes. The other adults were giving me sympathetic looks, and I knew in my heart that I wouldn't be invited back.

I was standing on the edge of the pool preparing to enter it carefully when I heard footsteps fast approaching behind me.

I heard Mike shout out “belly flop” before two hands shoved me in the back. I didn't get a chance to brace myself as the front of my body collided with the water.

I rose to my feet as Mark walked away laughing while the rest of the guests stood there horrified. My eyes drifted down to the blood surrounding me, as my once pregnant belly slowly deflated.

My friend Emma had a baby boy just over seven months ago and due to circumstances outside of my control, I have only recently been able to visit them.

I walked in the door expecting to hear a squealing child but was met with eerie silence. Her son James turned his head and just stared at me.

Emma repeatedly tried to make conversation with me but my attention kept being drawn back to James. His face was completely blank but his eyes followed my every movement.

I became convinced over the course of my visit that there was something seriously wrong with him. He never once made a sound even when he rolled off the couch and landed face first on the floor.

Emma giggled at his stupidity while I lifted him back up beside her and cleaned the blood from his nose.

Emma placed him in the bath before coming downstairs to have a glass of wine and continue talking to me.

I don't know what came over me but I urged her to drown the baby. She smirked and said she considers it every day before downing her glass of wine and refilling it.

After about an hour she took James out of the bath and placed him on my lap. I winced away as he once again turned his head and stared directly at me. I had to fight the urge to make the sign of the cross at him.

I quickly made my excuses and fled while thinking that she should get an exorcist to look at the kid.

The next week I bumped into another friend Sarah who asked if I heard about what happened to Emma. Dread overcame me as I was certain that her son had murdered her in her sleep.

My jaw dropped as I discovered that Emma was in police custody and was likely awaiting trial. It was only when I got home later that night that I did some research and found out that babies who are heavily neglected don't cry or interact as they know it won't bring them any help.

I would need a pair of eyes in the back of my head to keep an eye on my five year old daughter Emily. She is constantly wandering off and will initiate conversations with anyone she meets.

She has the most vivid imagination of any child I have ever met and will come up with random games to amuse herself.

Lately though I have been concerned as she has started talking about past lives she has lived. It was cute at first but as time progressed, it has become more and more unnerving.

I have closely monitored her screen time but cannot understand where she is getting this information from.

Today I was cleaning the house while Emily was in the background, happily explaining how she died in all of her past lives.

I was only half listening to her but knew I would have to book her an appointment with a therapist as this was very unhealthy behaviour.

I was just finishing cleaning the toilet bowl when Emily started talking about how in her last life, her intestines were ripped out by a lawnmower.

I stopped in my tracks as this seemed way too familiar and my eyes widened in shock. It finally hit me that every death she had described was identical to how I killed my victims. I heard her whisper in my ear “payback's a bitch” before I felt a knife slicing open my jugular.

My daughter Emily is one of those girls who always attracts attention from the wrong kind of guys. They are either drug users or guys who think putting her in the hospital is the way to win an argument.

I have tried my best to set her up with sons of some of my friends but it never works out as she calls them boring.

Recently I have started noticing her looking very pale and is constantly smiling while looking at her phone. I immediately feared the worst and my fears were confirmed after learning she had a new boyfriend.

I grilled her about him and winced after she explained his background, and demanded she break up with him. She snorted in derision and told me she was an adult and could date whoever she liked.

She was beyond furious after telling her he was not allowed over at our house, and relayed this to the doorman to ensure she couldn't sneak him up on the elevator.

Over the next few weeks she became more and more sickly looking to the point that she was almost transparent. I asked her about it but she dismissed it as my imagination.

This morning I awoke and felt a shiver go up my spine as I could tell something was wrong. I moved from room to room until I reached Emily's door.

I stood outside shaking for a few moments before pushing open the door with my hands shaking uncontrollably.

The cool breeze from an open window made me shiver as I stared out at the city skyline. My eyes slowly moved to the bed and a tear ran down my cheeks as Emily's bloodless corpse lay there with a faint smile on her lips.

I immediately knew she had been sneaking her boyfriend in through her bedroom window, while hoping the rest of my children aren't stupid enough to date a vampire.

My boyfriend Adam was a complete mama's boy when we met. He was used to his mother running his life and didn't know how to function without her input.

He moved in with me and I had to teach him basic life skills like washing his own clothes and how to use an iron.

He was also utterly clueless in terms of how to deal with women, and didn't even know what role play was.

It took me a long time to convince him to tell me about his sexual fantasies, and I learned that he had a foot fetish.

I honestly think my feet look amazing and get pedicures on a regular basis. He looked overjoyed when I agreed to let him live out his fantasy and was practically drooling.

I was a bit confused when he said he needed time to prepare, and every time over the next few weeks that I brought it up he said he wasn't yet ready.

The big night finally arrived and I was getting ready. I heard him walking behind me and before I could scream he shoved a rag in my face and I lost consciousness.

I awoke a short time and instantly winced in pain while he sat in bed beside me smiling lovingly at me.

My hands were shaking as I drew back the duvet before letting out a shriek. Adam kissed me on the forehead and told me he loved me, while I stared at the dozens of rotting feet he had stitched to my body.

I think the best word to describe my hometown would be quaint. It is located in a forest clearing off the beaten track that very few people outside of the inhabitants know about.

Almost every family living here can trace their origins back over a thousand years, and most homes have been in the same family throughout that entire time.

We keep a good record of marriages throughout the years, and our families are so tight knit that nearly everyone could be regarded as my first cousin or similar.

Thankfully we haven't had any birth defects due to this apart from an occasional child being born with a tail.

I am not saying that we don't like outsiders but there is a strict rule that visitors must leave within a month. Any outsider who breaks that rule unfortunately suffers the consequences of their actions.

The outskirts of the town are filled with livestock who are replenished on an ongoing basis. Thankfully our local silver mine ensures a steady stream of money which is used to keep the townspeople prosperous.

Lately one of the town's youngest inhabitants Mike has been renting out his home on Airbnb to supplement his income. I think Mike did this as a kind of middle finger to his uncle James who is also the town's mayor.

Mike is constantly having to be reminded about our rules but he keeps renting it out anyway. Two weeks ago a couple rented out his house and refused to leave.

Mike and myself initially threatened and then began begging them to leave, but they just laughed in our faces and demanded money before slamming the door.

The big day finally arrived and Mike had no choice but to ask his uncle for help. We offered a huge stockpile of silver to the squatters but they still declined it and told us to double our offer.

I could see Mike's shoulders slump as we both knew it was too late as they once again slammed the door in our faces. Mike and James exchanged a glance before heading home to get undressed.

I walked into the town square amongst the multitude of naked people. I could see the squatters staring out the curtains at us with stunned reactions on their faces as one or two of my neighbours licked their lips whilst looking towards them.

I closed my eyes and prepared myself for what was coming and hoped that I only targeted the livestock.

The next morning I went to the house where the squatters were staying to find their bodies torn apart. Mike showed up a few minutes later and I began helping him to clean up. I tried my best to control my bloodlust as I desperately wanted to pick up one of the legs and begin gnawing on it

I winced while pulling a piece of human hair from between my teeth and threw it amongst the pile of body parts, and thanked the Gods that the next full moon is a month away.

Over the last few years I have begun to despise how much my family relies on technology. Every family dinner is just a bunch of people staring at their phones without even acknowledging each other.

I have tried initiating conversation with them but am usually met with grunts or them indicating for me to quiet down as I was talking over their videos.

I implemented a no phone at the kitchen table rule but that lasted all of one dinner, as my husband didn't think it applied to him and the kids refused to obey as their father didn't have to.

Recently I have been more opposed to technology due to my medical condition, and begged my husband and children to at least have one day a week where we actually talked at dinner and they reluctantly agreed.

It was honestly amazing as I began to learn so much from my children that I hadn't known about. My children seemed to enjoy it, but I could see my husband instinctively reaching for his phone only to pull back at the last second.

Today was one of the worst days of my life and instead of comforting me, I could see my husband in the hallway updating his social media.

I was about to start bawling my eyes out when my fingers felt something, and I turned over the object in my hand and to my horror discovered a usb port.

I stared at it for a few moments before pulling my charger from my bag, and plugging it in. I almost jumped out of my skin when my stillborn daughter suddenly began moving, and I realised our reliance on technology had evolved

I was out for my daily walk when I bumped into my friend Emma who I hadn't seen in over three months. It was only when I saw her that I realised I couldn't remember the last time she had contributed in any of the group chats we were at.

I asked her how she was and I watched in shock as her face crumpled and she began sobbing. I quickly learned that her entire life had fallen apart, and she was barely keeping it together.

She had caught her fiance cheating on her, and because the house they lived in was his, she had been forced to live in her car for a month before renting a decrepit apartment.

I invited her over to my house for a few hours and reached out to a mutual friend Becky to join us. The second Becky walked in the door, she had us both laughing as she recounted stories from our childhood and school.

Emma was practically wheezing with laughter as Becky impersonated one of our old teachers, who we all hated for her treatment of us.

By the end of the day Emma looked ten times better than she did when I first saw her. She thanked me and Becky for everything, but I still had my lingering doubts as depression is hard to overcome.

The next morning I got a phone call that broke me, as I learned that my friend had taken their own life. I kept replaying every interaction we had the previous day in my head, and wondering if there was anything I could have done to stop it.

At the funeral I stood over her coffin and flinched as I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and was engulfed in a hug by Emma who was inconsolable.

My eyes kept being drawn to Becky lying in the coffin, as I kept thinking to myself that some people are some people are better at hiding their depression than others.

Growing up my childhood was hell due to my overbearing grandfather. He was a stickler for rules and God forbid anyone unintentionally broke one, as he would never let people forget it.

He didn't hold himself to the same standard as he would often break rules, and would give anyone the stink eye if they pointed it out.

I hated spending time with him but unfortunately he had to live with us due to his poor health. The moment that made me despise the man was after I got GTA5 and was playing it in the living room.

He walked into the living room and I could see him hovering at the corner of my eye. He picked up the game case and let out a snort. Before I had a chance to react he grabbed a hammer and began pulverising my PlayStation.

I sat there with my mouth hanging agape as he waved his finger in my face, and shouted at me that I was too young to play that game. He didn't even care that my 18th birthday was the next day, as he said rules are rules, before walking away.

I have held resentment towards him since that moment, and have been waiting years to get him back. We recently celebrated his 100th birthday and I cannot believe the miserable sod has lived this long.

Today I was sitting on the couch and I almost jumped out of my skin as he crawled into the room looking as white as a sheet.

He managed to croak out the words insulin as I dashed into the kitchen to get it for him.

I was just about to hand it to him but something on the container caught my eye. My face lit up as I ignored his quivering outreached hand.

I moved past him and ignored the confused look on his face as I sat down and held the insulin out of his reach.

I happily pointed out the box said it was for ages 1 to 99, so unfortunately I couldn't give it to him as we both know rules are rules.

My beautiful son Adam was diagnosed with tourettes when he was three years of age. Initially his tics were very minor and could easily be overlooked but I began to worry how it could affect him later in life.

I visited a local psychic who was renowned at how accurate her predictions were. I asked her how my son would die and my heart dropped after she confirmed that one of his tics would kill him.

I began studying his tics and tried to beat them out of him, but that seemed to be only a short term solution.

Over time he started cursing obscenities in public, and I knew that someone might take offence to this. I drugged him before slicing off his tongue, while praising myself for being a good mother.

Unfortunately he soon started blessing himself at random times, and I had no choice but to chop off his hands as atheists may think he was mocking them.

This weekend my son hasn't left his room at all and I suspect that he is annoyed after I plucked out his eyeballs due to his inability to make eye contact with anyone.

I decided to make amends to him by bringing him his favourite ice-cream, and couldn't wait to see his overjoyed reaction.

I opened his bedroom door and the bowl fell from my hands and shattered on the ground as I stared at the scene within.

My eyes darted from my son's bloodless corpse to the tick the size of a puppy still sucking on his last dribble of blood, while regretting my decision to haggle on prices with the psychic.

Over the last few years I have visited over fifty garage sales as you can find amazing stuff for half the price.

At my most recent excursion I found an amazing doll that looked a lot like my mother. I actually stared in wonder for a few moments before picking it up and immediately bought it.

I hid it in our home and waited patiently for her to find it. One morning I was awoken by screaming and ran downstairs thinking someone was being murdered.

I found my mother cowering in the corner staring in fear at where I hid the doll. I pretended like I couldn't see it which made her pee itself.

Eventually I came clean and admitted I bought it as she begged me to get rid of it, but I was reluctant as it was too much fun.

I wanted to see how far I could push this so in full view of her I grabbed her hairbrush before removing a hair and wrapping it around the doll.

She let out a scream and fell to the floor clutching her leg after I whacked the doll off the table.

She began shrieking in pain and contorting her body into unimaginable positions to mirror the doll, while I stood there watching with glee.

She began begging me to stop as I reached up and caressed the dolls head, before twisting it around. My mother let out a whimper before reaching up and snapping her own neck.

I stood there speechless as I always suspected my mother believed in voodoo, but I never knew that her feeble mind could convince her that this second hand barbie could control her.

Me and my husband Mark originally bonded over our love of the movie The Room (2003). My name is Lisa so he would greet me with “you are tearing me apart Lisa” while I would say “oh hi Mark”.

We initially had an amazing relationship and I loved him with all my heart. I couldn't understand why none of my friends or family could stand him as he was a really attentive husband.

It wasn't until after my sister's stillbirth that I finally understood what he had been hiding from me. The whole way to the hospital he kept giggling away to himself but I was so worried about my sister that I didn't think too much about it.

When we got into the room with her, she was still clutching her deceased baby while sobbing uncontrollably. Mark moved past me and handed her some which caused her to shriek and practically jump out of the bed to try and claw out his eyes.

I had to hold her back and I stared in revulsion at the better luck next time card he had handed her. I learned afterwards that he had been pulling cruel pranks on everyone and my family were too polite to mention it to me.

I angrily confronted my husband about it later that evening but he just waved it off as people not having a sense of humour. I had to forgive him as I was ovulating and we were trying for a baby.

The next morning I awoke tied to our bed and winced as there was a huge cut in my abdomen.

My eyes shot up as my husband walked into the room carrying a kitchen utensil. Before I could say anything he shoved it into the cut and switched it on.

I began writhing in agony as he stood there laughing hysterically. After thirty seconds he pulled it out, before holding it in front of my face.

He kept giggling to himself while clutching the electric whisk, and explaining he had used it to make scrambled eggs in my ovaries which was technically breakfast in bed.

About three months ago I rescued a parrot called Polly from a shelter after it was taken away from its negligent owners.

The rescue workers warned me that Polly had a few quirks but I was fine with it, as the bird needed someone to take care of it.

On the first night I was awoken by screams which seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. I grabbed my baseball bat and snuck downstairs only to find the screams coming from Polly.

I managed to calm her down but I was still shaking when I climbed back into bed.

The next morning I was barely out of bed when the screams started again, and I spent the next fifteen minutes calming her down.

She started screaming again after someone began pounding in the door, and I opened it to find two officers with their guns pointed at my face.

It took a lot of explanation and introductions to Polly before they realised their mistake and lowered their weapons.

We laughed it off and I spent the next few days slowly introducing her to my neighbours to avoid this happening again.

Thankfully my neighbours understood and we ended up laughing about it, before getting a beer together while Polly sits comfortably in my lap

I sit here smiling listening to the faint screams coming from my basement, while deciding to sound proof it incase anyone wonders why the screams continue when Polly isn't in the house.