MicroHorror

Andy Sheelar was just waking from a Saturday afternoon nap, when Lilac, his four-year-old daughter, ran into the room and jumped up on the bed. She was crying.
 
“What’s wrong, baby?”
 
Lilac spoke through sobs. “I caused Mommy to get hurt.”
 
He pulled her to his chest. “Is that so? How did you do that?”
 
Her voice grew screechy. “I played with the hairdryer in the bathtub.”
 
Andy wondered if his wife, Violet, had told Lilac that the dangerous action “hurt Mommy,” as a way to ensure Lilac did not try it again.
 
“Where’s Mommy now?” Andy asked.
 
“I’m in the garage,” Violet said. Andy looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. Her face was pale, and her lips were curled into a hideous frown.
 
Suddenly, the pressure on his chest was gone. Andy looked and saw that Lilac was no longer there. He looked back at the doorway, wanting to ask if Violet had seen her disappear, but Violet was gone too.
 
Andy jumped out of bed and ran through the house. He caught a glance of something in his periphery, and had to look again. Sure enough, it was there. His daughter was on the bathroom floor, still wet from her bath, with a towel draped over her like a sheet. The cord from the hairdryer had been pulled from the wall, but the hairdryer itself was still in the tub.
 
Andy shouted out, “Nooo!” He ran to his daughter and searched for a sign of life. She was not breathing and had no pulse. Her wet skin was cold.
 
Part of him knew it was too late, but another part of him refused to give up hope. “I’ll get you to the hospital.” He picked up the corpse and ran through the house. He opened the door to the garage and stepped out.
 
His wife was there, hanging by a rope from one of the support beams. Her face was blue.
 
Andy fell back on his butt.
 
“It’s all a dream,” he said. “I just have to wake up.”
 
Hours later, he was still sitting there, holding his daughter’s body.