My Daughter
"And what are you supposed to be?" their neighbor and sometimes-friend, Thomas Mallory, asked as Amy and Rory walked through his doorway.
"A ghost," Amy said unapologetically.
Thomas looked to Rory, who shrugged. He looked up and down the white hospital-like scrubs Amy wore. "Since when do ghosts where pants?"
"Since their daughters get stolen from their arms."
Thomas once again turned to Rory for help. "Is this from some sort low budget horror flick I don't know about?"
"Yeah," Rory said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders. "It's called Demon's Run."
