“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by hum...

I always knew one day I’d lose you. We could choose a life rural or urban and it wouldn’t matter because fairytales linger in your blood like flecks of microplastic. They may shimmer and shapeshift, hiding their sharp bones under prettier stories, but they never stop singing their warnings. How the sweetest lips taste of small deaths, how to spot a wolf and what wedding dress is also a burial gown. The story you loved most was how to escape by sewing your mouth shut and refusing the gifts—jewel dark berries, worm-kissed apples, fresh toadstools and meat pies brimming with rot. But when he comes for you with golden offerings, you smile and open your mouth, waiting for the poison to take. This is you crawling into the throat of the wolf, armed with fists and teeth, unhinging your own hunger until you’ve devoured everything but the skin and eyes. This time, O this time, they’ll fit.   --- Faith Allington (she/her) is a genre-blending writer in Seattle, where she admires fungi and drinks too much tea. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Flash Fiction Online, Haven Spec, Kaleidotrope, and Crow & Cross Keys. She can be found at www.faithallington.com.

I always knew one day I’d lose you. We could choose a life rural or urban and it wouldn’t matter because fairytales linger in your blood like flecks of microplastic. They may shimmer and shapeshift, hiding their sharp bones under prettier stories, but they never stop singing their warnings. How the sweetest lips taste of small deaths, how to spot a wolf and what wedding dress is also a burial gown. The story you loved most was how to escape by sewing your mouth shut and refusing the gifts—jewel dark berries, worm-kissed apples, fresh toadstools and meat pies brimming with rot. But when he comes for you with golden offerings, you smile and open your mouth, waiting for the poison to take. This is you crawling into the throat of the wolf, armed with fists and teeth, unhinging your own hunger until you’ve devoured everything but the skin and eyes. This time, O this time, they’ll fit.   --- Faith Allington (she/her) is a genre-blending writer in Seattle, where she admires fungi and drinks too much tea. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Flash Fiction Online, Haven Spec, Kaleidotrope, and Crow & Cross Keys. She can be found at www.faithallington.com.