by Tiffany Michelle Brown
(377 words)
My body aches as I trudge down yet another graffiti-blasted alleyway. The heat is oppressive, rendering my limbs heavy, my skin crispy, and my sight dubious at best. But I keep searching, because I’m hungry, oh so hungry.
As if on cue, my belly twists and wails. “I’m trying,” I whisper, “I’m trying.”
I turn a corner, hope bubbling in my throat. Often, a group of teenage boys tosses around a basketball just over there—but not today. Disappointment, thick and sour, coats my mouth as I continue on, bones creaking, head swimming.
The city has been buttoned up tight for a week. It isn’t safe to be outside, where the heat ripples up from the asphalt in waves. I stare at the towering buildings around me and envision their inhabitants enjoying their air conditioning and sucking on popsicles. A trickle of sweat anoints my chafing thighs.
I head toward the park, not expecting anyone to be there, but at least I can sit on a swing and rest.
At first, the little girl in the sandbox seems like a mirage. She’s alone, no parent or nanny or older sibling in sight. She scoops sand into her palm, then splays her fingers, letting the grains fall back into the pit.
I salivate.
The girl pays no mind as I amble over. I climb into the sandbox and sit beside her. Strings of hot saliva drip from my lips. I swipe them away with the back of my hand.
“Can I show you something?” I ask.
The girl smiles and nods.
I reach overhead and bend my arm at the elbow, letting my limb drape over my skull. My fingers grasp my ear and pull. My head detaches from my shoulders easily. I watch the girl’s face morph from curiosity to concern to fear. She screams.
Her fear tastes like bubblegum and cherry lip balm and fish sticks dipped in ketchup. Delicious.
When I’ve had my fill, I reattach my head and observe the spoils of my meal. Hungry as I was, I took too much. The girl is as grey, brittle, and dry as the sand surrounding her. She dissolves completely at the touch of my finger. “Sorry, little one,” I say, “but a girl’s gotta eat.”
END
Tiffany Michelle Brown is a California-based writer who once had a conversation with a ghost over a pumpkin beer. She is the author of How Lovely To Be a Woman: Stories and Poems and cohost of the Horror in the Margins podcast. Her fiction and poetry has been featured in publications by Black Spot Books, Dread Stone Press, Death Knell Press, Hungry Shadow Press, and the NoSleep Podcast. Tiffany lives near the beach with her husband Bryan, their pup Zen, and their combined collections of books, board games, and general geekery.