House of Hunger

by Alexis Henderson

The sky seemed to arch overhead like a cathedral’s ceiling, and it was spangled with constellations and the bright, churning storms of galaxies she’d never seen before. In the distance, a red crescent moon like a small paper cut sliced into the black night sky.

“What we are made to feel we are made to remember. And there is no feeling as memorable as pain.

Marion had always found it odd that someone would go through the trouble of killing a creature only to make it look alive again. It seemed somehow perverse.