The Red Letter
forthcoming in the Fairy Tale Review: The Red Issue
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Am I a dead woman stuffed inside a box, lined with thick inky brush? When I am quiet, I can hear the snarling of the other dead bodies nearby, scratching at the rotting, fleecy planks of their boxes. I imagine them hunting for me, coming maddened or starved in the night, with faces faded, pale as cream. They will rip me to shreds, unravel my skin, and gather the slack to drag me down into the depths, as I become my own ghost.
Are you there, little Radish?
I have lost every patience with the post office. Just now I slipped an envelope into the mailbox. When I stuck my hand inside, the sides of the box were buttery-slick, the edges threaded with blue and purple veins. The box throbbed with a pulse when I poked at it. It quivered, like a nerve, and then fell to the floorboards and crawled under the house.
tears in the typing pool | writings by kyle greenwood