by Chisto Healy

Lara had first seen it on her shoulder. She had been outdoors that day and wearing a tank top. She figured it was a sunspot, a new freckle, some might say a mole. Lara preferred beauty mark. It was cute.

Then it wasn’t.

Lara’s little brown spot grew and stretched. It became scaly and raised as it multiplied, now five thick lines reaching to a large brown base, like a dark hand gripping her back.

She thought it was some kind of infection or disease until she heard its voice inside her mind. It said, “Kill.”

Chisto Healy