We All Rot Eventually: A Horror Novella

by Mia Ballard

“Dave has the aura of someone who’s seen a dead body.”

There’s a poster of Aaron Carter right above my futon bed. Poor boy has seen a lot of unholy things.

HAHAH

“What are you getting?” he asks, finally looking up, his voice soft like we’re sharing something intimate. “I don’t know,” I say, flipping the menu shut. “Maybe the arsenic.” He blinks, his expression wobbling somewhere between confusion and unease. “What?” “The arsenic,” I repeat, my voice flat. “I hear it pairs well with a dry white.”