by Hari Navarro
I felt the impact as she landed in our bed. That sickly hollow plunge common to nightmares in which we fall but never land. It was sometime after the birth of our third child, I think. And she did arrive in our bed, and she did lay waste to our passion and she turned what we had to dust.
I saw her that next day as you awoke. I saw the flurry of blackened wings as they fluttered behind the blink of your morning eyes. I saw her nesting inside you and I knew then, quite certainly, we were lost.
Hari Navarro has for many years now been locked in his neighbour’s cellar. He survives due to an intravenous feed of puréed extreme horror and sticky-spiced unicorn wings. His anguished cries for help can be found via 365 Tomorrows, Breachzine, AntipodeanSF, Horror Without Borders, Black Hare Press, and HellBound books.