Victorian Psycho

by Virginia Feito

I meet its mullioned eyes from the open phaeton, rolling across the moor to my destiny, my breasts jiggling in my corset.

Idk why I love this but I do

It is early fall, the cold is beginning to descend, and in three months everyone in this house will be dead.

Oooo fun

As I walk inside, the skirt of my dress brushes her limp hand, which she withdraws instantly. Mrs Able, I muse, is a woman who has never held a penis.

Bahahahaha I love her already