“I don’t hear my mother calling my name. I don’t feel her footsteps padding across the kitchen floor, or the clicking of doors in the hallway. I don’t notice her step into the room as I am sitting there, hunched over, mouth open—Like her mouth—Red, all over. I only see the dark shadow of her hand raised above me when it’s already too late.”
— “The Abattoir” (published May 29, 2018: 2018 Editor’s Choice) Read it online.
All illustrations: Lisa Lee Herrick