It didn’t snow. The children are here, two of them, lean like feral wolves. They’re eating on the house right now, but sooner or later they’ll make their way inside. I’ve disassembled one of Craig’s radios and I fastened one end of the wire to the bed. It’s strong enough to hold a child, I think. I can imprison them for a while, buy some time until I think of what to do. It’s a shitty plan, but it’s better than no plan at all.
End
This story was one I wrote at Clarion, and was originally published in Weird Tales in their Spring 2010 issue. It was inspired by a gingerbread house I made for Christmas one year. I didn’t want to eat it, so I put it outside, and a few hours later, I came back to find it carpeted with hundreds of bees. It got me thinking about what it would be like to live in a house made of cake and candy, and who on earth would possibly do such a thing? Reality show contestants, of course.