Someone You Can Build a Nest In

by John Wiswell

But humans never stood up for the right thing. They stood around feeling uncomfortable, and later pretended that feeling uncomfortable meant they were virtuous.

There was a sophisticated pleasure to terrorizing and devouring someone who thought they were above everyone. A good predator was also a reminder, she thought.

It was the older families that clutched most of the wealth, even though it was harvested by the laborers. What the laborers got out of it that kept them from eating the rich, Shesheshen didn’t understand. She was a mere monster.

This revelry was a kind of fear, for hatred was the fear people let themselves enjoy.

No matter whether she survived this one night or a thousand more years, she would never suffer another handsy rich man to live.

Weaknesses were a human invention. They called it your weakness if they fantasized about murdering you with it.

Nobody actually helped each other. That’s why people had religions, hoping gods would provide help where people refused.

She wanted to wrap more of herself around Homily. To grow large enough that this kindly fat woman could be protected inside her. To consume her, without the harm, until all their motions were complementary. Homily held onto her both like she was fragile and like she would slip away into the sea if she released her grip. She wanted to tell her it was all right to hold on. That she was monstrously durable. Anything to keep her near. Their dance was like consensual hatching.

Romance was awful. She couldn’t even do something as simple as murdering rude people anymore.

It was not Shesheshen’s place to speak. Bad as she was at talking, she knew when powerful people implied silence. It was one of those violent actions everyone pretended wasn’t violent.

This was the same mistake so many humans made: believing someone would leap over trauma when it hurt them badly enough. That wasn’t how it worked, and the monster knew it. All Shesheshen could do for Homily was be patient with her, and make space for her, and eventually, one day behind her back, eat her mother.

“No young woman of means has gone through her entire life without at least once surveying her opportunities and wishing for a dragon instead.”