The Thicket

by Noelle W. Ihli

And when the first scream does tear through his throat, he knows it’s loud enough that everyone will hear it. But no one will come.

Norah doesn’t ask why. Because the look in the woman’s eyes tells her to cling to these last few minutes of not knowing like a life raft.

That’s the moment he loves most of all—even more than the blood. The moment of knowing. Knowing that something very bad is about to happen. And that it’s too late to stop it.

Sometimes, Norah feels like her family members are living in different dimensions. Or maybe different circles of hell. She doesn’t feel abandoned. Or resentful. She just accepts that they can’t reach each other right now.

I’ve seen the way Russ looks at you, and he has 100 percent sold his soul to the devil.”

The sweet, slightly putrid smell of the corn syrup factory has been edged out by a mélange of hot oil and sugar, along with something dark and earthy. It smells like Halloween, she decides.

He’s found the fringes of the herd. He’s here to hunt, after all.

This discovery feels like serendipity.

You can scream if you want. Maybe just once, for fun?”