Lapvona

by Ottessa Moshfegh

Villiam felt very happy. Of all those at the manor, he was the only one to appreciate that the horse had found its way home without sight. That was loyalty. Forget Dibra. She, like Luka, would get what she deserved. Villiam would not lament his wife’s disappearance. No, he would celebrate. Something good was coming. Villiam believed this in his heart as much as he believed himself to be at the heart of all things.

‘It’s like it all never happened,’ they said, and nobody spoke of the people they’d eaten, though the absence of certain families was acute at Sunday Mass—half the pews sat empty.

The priest liked the farce. It was just his style.

In truth, Ina had replaced her old blind eyes with the eyes of Dibra’s horse.

‘They were my children,’ Vuna said coolly. ‘And I’ll replace them if I want.’

Perhaps, all mothers are whores. This book is vile.

Children are selfish, she thought. They rob you of life.

She simply sat in Marek’s empty room out of spite, waiting for him to come back. She became completely consumed by her longing for something to hate.

Marek gave up on helping Villiam control his darker urges.