Let me in
By Abigail Denton
The sky was lit up at her base with the lights of humans in their homes, but that was not the reason I could not sleep. A woman, dressed in black, had come up to my doorstep and asked to be let in. I told her that she could only come in if I could see her face, but she would not show me.
She stood outside my bedroom window and waited. As I tossed and turned in bed, I could feel her eyes on me, eight pairs of eyes, I was sure. Every now and then, she would rap her knuckles on the windowpane, and I felt my bones crack beneath my skin. Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap. Finally, I got up to ask her to go away, but as soon as I stepped from the bed, my legs stumbled beneath me. I began to fall, but six new legs descended before my body to support me. Thick black bristles covered each one, and my body exploded with new sensations.
I cried for help, but the croaking and gnashing of four pincers scared me again, and I crashed into the window, shattering the glass. In the darkness, as I looked out at the shards on the ground, glinting in the light of the moon, I saw suddenly myself looking over my own shoulder. She-I was quiet and still, but her-my smell was overwhelming.
I destroyed her-me until there was nothing left but bits of flesh and bone. Each bristly hair on my body shivered with delight as her-my energy flowed through me, and I screamed again, in that language known only to those whose throats have teeth.
Abigail Denton has had work published in Shirley Magazine and Thirteen Myna Birds, and she is working on her MFA in Oxford, Ohio. Beyond her “official” writing, she loves engaging with compelling fanfiction. Follow her for publishing updates on Twitter @Thatlivingdeath and for the same + plants on Instagram @That_living_death.