My parents gave me the house, calling it a wedding gift, but I knew better. They were moving a great weight from their shoulders to mine. Now the Domovoi were my responsibility. Of course my new husband did not believe. He laughed when I put out the milk and cookies every night, and every morning asked if I had eaten them. Yet never did he question how I cleaned the entire house every night without him seeing.

Then one night our newborn daughter disappeared from her crib. As the police searched I noticed the plate and bowl were not on the floor. I asked my husband, and he admitted eating the cookies himself before going to bed. There were no such things as Domovoi, he scolded.

The police could not find my baby, nor sign of foul play. When I mentioned the Domovoi, I felt their suspicion turn to me. Yet they could prove nothing.

They left but my anger festered. I planned my revenge. The next night I left out the milk and cookies, this time adding a pinch of rat poison and splash of antifreeze for sweetness. Then I left the food in the kitchen and retired to bed.

I could not sleep, my husband’s snores keeping me awake. When I heard the commotion in the kitchen, I leapt up, anxious to see what damage I had done.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Both creatures lay on the floor amid broken glass and dented pans. They had flailed in pain but now lay motionless. Their glowing, baleful red eyes were dimming and froth poured from their tiny, tooth filled mouths. Runnels had been scratched into the linoleum by their spasming claws.

I took up a kitchen knife and showed them the blade. Then I had my retribution, cutting away their arms and then their legs, and when the light had left their eyes entirely I dismantled the remains until nothing was left but a pile of meat. Then I fried them in a skillet and ate them. Afterward I laid on the floor, ready to die from my own poison.

But I did not die. Instead I vomited everything inside me and more until I lay beside a pile of gore the size of a human being.

It was all such a mess, and I hated messes. So I removed the filth. I chewed, licked, and slurped until all was gone. Then I pieced together the glassware with my saliva, pounded out the dented pans with my claws, and cleared away the scratches with my breath. When I finished, the kitchen was spotless.

Pleased, I crawled into the attic for sleep, leaving my husband in the bed alone. I could never be with him again, but I was going to make sure he was safe and happy in his home for as long as he cared for me. All I required was a little milk and a few cookies.