"Dinnertime" by Jennifer Ironside

Like every other night, your mother’s voice booms down the street.  “Dinnertime!” she shouts.       

“Gotta go,” you tell your friends as you hop on your ten-speed.

            Like every other night, your mother leaves the back door unlocked.  After you kick off your shoes you notice a faint stench lingering in the air. 

“She must be making clam chowder again,” you mutter as you make gagging gestures to yourself in the hallway mirror. 

Like every other night, your mother is busy setting the table.  Except it isn’t your mother.  It isn’t like anything you’ve ever seen before, awake or dreaming.  It leans closer, so close you can feel the warmth of its breath on your cheek. 

It whispers one word:  “Dinnertime!”