A Bucket of Tiny Madnesses
When you press them down, you hear their angry little squeals.
All her Killers
They poked each other with their blades, spread their blood on the windows.
Crawling In, Crawling Out
When she charmed worms out of the ground, she did so alone, with her wood rattler: a long stick carved with teeth, jammed deep into the earth, scraped so it sang like skeletons clattering.
We’re Being Eaten
J– is studying at the kitchen table, pencil scribbling, lamp-lit, while the things slide in from the back yard. They slide out from holes we never noticed before (or maybe we always knew they were there, burrows with milk-gray wrinkled things inside, like overlarge moles, like leftovers we forgot about). J– needs to pass this…
The Pieces she Kept
She plucked the shards out one by one and stashed them in a box under her bedroom floor.
This Town has too Many Dark Festivals
The rites have been described as highly uncomfortable.