Hungerstone

by Kat Dunn

To be a woman is a horror I can little comprehend.

I never told anyone. There was nothing to tell, I thought. But perhaps the truth was there had been no one to listen.

And all I am left with is my raw, untrammeled hunger. I am a woman woken from thirty years slumber, and I would eat the world should it satisfy this empty, keening void where my heart should be. I would cry with grief over my life so unfulfilled, and drink down the salty tears, eat my worthless tongue and impotent fingers, skin this carcass and pick the bones clean.