by Nina Miller

Tori awoke, missing a thumb. A skeletonised stump jutted out from her palm. Phantom pains pulsed. She sucked the nubbin, and its coppery tang activated her taste buds. She got out of bed.

Empty cans rattled around her feet like bones. No food remained. Vermin had fled. Tori’s roach jar was empty. She clutched her teddy. She missed Daddy, whose rotting meat rested in a dead freezer. She missed Mommy, whose gaunt frame was covered in a quilt, having bled herself dry.

Hunger growled at her. Tori nibbled the nails of sausage-like digits, then devoured each finger to the bone.

Nina Miller

Nina Miller is an Indian-American physician, epee fencer, and creative. She loves exploring dark nights of the soul… and chai. Find her work within Cutbow Quarterly, Raw Lit, Jake, Bright Flash, SciFi Shorts, Five South, Roi Fainéant, Five Minutes, and more. Find her on X @NinaMD1 or on her website.

Website: ninamillerwrites.com