Queer Little Nightmares

by David Ly

The thing is, my brain isn’t busy. There’s this tender emptiness inside me. Like a bruise that doesn’t turn purple, still I feel its ache under my skin.

But what of those who die unloved? What of those whose families cast them out, who will pay no priest to chant over their pyres and see their souls off safely?

The daylight will reveal your true nature, and you will be hunted.” “This is nothing so new,” I said. “I was hunted in the daylight for my true nature in life. Why not in death, too?”