At first there was just one bicycle—a tiny, pink stingray with training wheels and a white wicker basket attached to the handlebars—that followed me throughout high school. Now there are more than two-dozen, but I don’t know how many exactly. I’ve stopped counting. They follow me everywhere. To work. …

  Eleanor’s screams echoed through the empty park. She knew that no one would hear them but her captors. They ignored her objections and bore her onwards, tiny fingers gripping her arms with preternatural strength. Inwardly, she cursed. She cursed herself for recognizing too late the menace that had infiltrated …

  Floyd saw the car and knew it would turn in long before it began trundling up his gravel driveway. He pretended not to notice. Brim of his straw hat pulled low to block the sun, he took his time locking up the big barn doors as the car idled …