Diamond Teeth
It was a fine hate, blue, like diamond teeth. Ancient and sharp.
There was nothing she could not chew.
But sometimes, before bed, she'd take the hate out and set it on the
nightstand. Sleep peacefully, for a change.
One day, she forgot to put the hate back in. She walked around all morning
with a loose, vacant grin that unsettled us. We laughed and pointed,
mimicking her strange new face till finally, she chased us all out the front
door with a broom.
When we came back in for supper, her face was full and hard again. Chewing
furiously to make up for lost time.
Reassured, we ignored her and attacked the meal with a vengeance.
Randall Rader is a graduate of the University of Washington writing program and the
Director of Technical Publications for the Walt Disney Internet Group.
Current projects include short fiction published in Issue 6 of the
Vestal
Review and a selection of poetry accepted for Issue 10 of Exquisite
Corpse.
In Posse:
Potentially, might be ...
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