The Butcher and The Wren

by Alaina Urquhart

A lot of well-adjusted people admire a well-sculpted skull. Most of them don’t even understand how primitively ominous that particular fixation is. Most people don’t allow themselves to see the savage side of a psyche that was crafted millions of years ago out of their ancestors’ often brutal need to survive. These are the traits that evolution deemed to be useful. People are just too dumb to understand that their own predilections are suggestive of a gene pool that is rooted in brutality.

It’s like the universe was asking him to take out its trash. Of course, he obliged.

The Louisiana sun is pretty unforgiving to the living, but it is particularly cruel to the dead.

Is it not enough drama to take a life away? Are they so starved for validation that they have to package their carnage up like a Jack in the Box toy?

indicate insecurity more than confidence, like someone who tells a joke but then spends a half hour explaining the punch line. They don’t let it speak for itself. It’s desperate and uncomfortable behavior.

As he sits down in his car, the weight of a day’s worth of sun presses upon him.

How the air was heavy and thick, but with a slight breeze that drew even the most heat-sensitive away from the synthetic comfort of

Failure is never an easy pill to swallow, but for Jeremy it is like ingesting broken glass.

Diligence pays off when you least expect it.