Kari put the starling inside herself the morning of the wedding. It was dead when she did it. Cold and crinkly. Its black body slid inside her vaginal canal as easily as a tampon. The beak pointing down, poised to puncture.
She wanted his blood on the sheets.
But Kari had boiled under her gown all evening. Heat and pressure churned in her core. Rage gestated life.
He opened her legs, and a murmuration swarmed out. A hundred beaks bleated back the vows. A sky of speckled feathers swallowed his screams. Picked clean, his bones gleamed white as the sheets.
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alt="A Consummation by Amelia M. Burton"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Inheritance by Rohan Mishra"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Birth Marks by Umi Agawa"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Last Day of Colour by Chris Clemens"
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>