Fat of the Moon

Horror Flash Fiction

Blades run thick like fur, wind-tossed and flickering—the green, green as algae before the shade. And in her footprints lie pressed planes. Warmth touches back against my palms as I tremble, bending to sort tones of flesh and sweat.

She runs in fright, the tainted ichor bitter behind the tallow heel, the bone and tasteless gristle almost nothing against …