“I wanted to impress you, babe—be the first potholer through the corkscrew twist. Now look at me—wedged, stuck between a rock and a hard place, in a granite birth-canal narrower than our Tiger's cat flap. I'm not alone here. Something just slid over my cheek before the head torch died. Cold as hell. Translucent skin. Blind lidless fisheyes. Sucker mouth full of needle teeth—they're gnawing up from my boots.”
Signal loss. Recording resumes.
“They ate my nose. Then my lips. Fuck. I can feel them breathing—breeding inside me. Sorry, babe. What a shit honeymoon this is.”
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alt="Phantom by Liam Dragan"
class="motion-reduce"
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width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Neuroluxe Implant no 3Z82M99B64 by Bryanna Botham"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Blindly Following Orders by Chris Tattersall"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Donor by Collette Night"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>