Longer Stories

1: The Glass Rod

Arlene’s last customer of the day is anxious and uneasy as she sits in her chair, her arm locked into place on the worktable. Far too late to turn back, and yet—

“A-are you sure this is safe?”

She can’t help but notice the customer’s sweat, so laden with fear and guilty desire.

“Of course it is,” she replies, her voice smoothly echoing up the throat of the body she’s chosen to wear—a handsome thing, with just enough of a beard to be disarming; it dances on her strings with all the confidence it didn’t in life. “I’m a professional, miss.”

Abigail’s Mothers

“Just try your best, okay dear? It’s fine if it takes a few tries.”

Abigail’s eyes jump between the cleaver Cloth Mother has just wrapped her fingers around and the too-small body spread out on the table. Outside the pool of light, Wire Mother grins and blows smoke into the air.

“Don’t waste time, dear.” Wire Mother draws the word out, makes it into an insult as it hisses between its glass-shard teeth. “It needs to die.”