A round of applause to @aaron_s_pittman for getting me these little alien dudes in Roswell. #aliens #toys

Story #2 "Quarter Machine"

So i’m dumb and I’m going to try and write a short horror story every day of October. 

Here's the 2nd story.

Quarter Machine

Written by Dave Scheidt

  Story 2 of 31

  “You don't need anymore toys!" the look of disappointment filled Peter's adorably chubby five year old face. He sat in the shopping cart with his feet dangling in the air and his arms crossed in stern protest. "But Daaaaad! I don't have those guys! They're little ninjas! C'mon!".

  Peter karate chopped the air as he spoke. "Ninjas are cool! They sneak up on you and BAM! You're dead!" Peter's father ignored him like he always did. Peter knew it, too.

  Peter karate kicked the air and his shoe flew off and hit his father square in the nose. "PETER!" his father shouted his voice stern and full of spit. "What did I tell you about doing that!" then his father slapped Peter across the face without even flinching.

  Peter let out a wail and tears flew down his face, flush red from the stinging slap. His father pushed the shopping cart in a quickening pace. His father's knuckles white from squeezing the shopping cart handle.

  Peter cried and reached out to the quarter machine as it got further and further from his grasp. He cried out for his little toy friends to save him.

  The short car ride home Peter knew it was best to keep his mouth shut unless he wanted another slap. Finally home his father slammed down a bag of groceries on the counter and immediately commanded that Peter go to his room.

  His mother looked concerned. "Peter? Honey, what happened?" his mother placed her hand on his shoulder. Peter's father's eyes lit up in a fiery rage. "GOD DAMN IT! DON'T YOU START! HE'S AN UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SLIME!" his father screamed as veins popped out of the side of his neck.

  Peter ran to his room just as he does every night this happens. He knew he'd fall asleep, praying that one day this would all be over. He prayed that his father wouldn't hurt his mother. He wished that his ninja friends would teach him the secret ways of stealth and high flying kicks and take him far away from this awful place.

  The next morning Peter awoke to his mother screaming. His father lay dead on the couch in the living room. His mother wept and cried till the police arrived, then she wept some more. When the police came into Peter's room to ask him a few questions he sat on his bedroom floor playing with a set of various colored toy ninjas that he recognized from quarter machine. He smiled for the first time in a long time.