By Ann Yuan
To survive, Mother teaches us to fake death: stiffen the body and stick out the tongue. The cat doesn’t eat dead meat.
A whiff of peach pie creeps in. Keep practising, she says before she runs out of the cave. We imagine Mother hauls back a wedge of golden pastry doused with syrup. Mouths watering, bellies rumbling, we decide whoever stays motionless for the longest time gets the largest bite.
Outside, she screams—a pitch to rip our skin. We lie still, limbs straight up as if seeking a motherly hug. We play the best corpses. We know how to survive.
Such a well-written story!
Thank you, Sarah!
Nice story. good tension and twist. I can see the scene.
Hi, John! Thank you for the comment. Congratulations on your new book!
Enjoyed the dark tension in this piece.
I like the phrase “dark tension”. Thanks!
Amazing. Haunting, tense and so vivid.
Thanks for your comment!
Interesting imagery.
Thanks for reading!