Marshmallows

Joan and Josh were alone at the house for the first time. Their parents said it would take them a while to get back from their night out, so they went crazy. Nope! When they finished their homework, they did what all teenagers do: twiddled with their phones like mindless robots until they went to bed.

Josh was the first to wake up. He was sweating, his pale skin reddened as if he had been in the blazing hot sun all day. Heading to the house’s main thermostat, he found that it was supposedly 68 degrees. Then his sister woke up from the crazy heat and joined him in the hallway.

“What’s happening?” she asked him, her voice becoming raspy.

“I don’t know,” Josh replied.

Where were their parents? Was this some kind of fever? Joan headed to the kitchen and tried to cool herself with the crisp air in the refrigerator, but it didn’t help.

Josh, still upstairs, felt his stomach ache, and a stickiness under his shirt. Looking down, his hand—no, his flesh—was melting off of him! His screams echoed through the house. Joan tried running to him, but she got slower and slower until her legs were waxy little blobs of tissue. Their screams of terror were not heard from outside the house. 

* * *

“I can’t believe the roads were flooded!” Mrs. J. rushed inside the house, excited to see her babies.

“Honey, don’t be so loud,” said Mr. J, “They’re probably sleeping.” But no children were to be found, only charred bones in peculiar places around the home.