Hungerstone

by Kat Dunn

Carmilla holds an allure, like ghosting a finger around the edge of a flame: the temptation, the beauty, and the anticipation of pain.

“It is a melody to me. You are a song, Lenore, harmony and discord. I am learning to sing it.”

“You think yourself a tool, needed only when useful. You are wrong.”

“Don’t you love this house?” she says. “What?” I laugh. “Love rot and decay?” “All the crumbling mess of it. I thought it a wreck that consumed you, but now I see its magnificence. This place is wild. It is defiant and difficult and free. Do you not love it for that?”

All we can hope for in life is to know one’s own desires in order to be able to act on them. To want is to surrender to uncertainty. To step into the unknown. To expose ourselves to all possible outcomes and trust we will not be destroyed by disappointment.