House of Hollow

by Krystal Sutherland

We knew all too well what could happen to girls on poorly lit streets at night, because it had happened to us. Then again, all girls knew that.

I’m a girl made of bread crumbs, lost alone in the woods.

You are like the death flowers that grow rampant in your wake: lovely to look at, intoxicating even, but get too close and you will soon learn that there is something rank beneath. That’s what beauty often is, in nature. A warning. A disguise.