Dead Rabbits Don’t Run (Reprise) [fiction]

I smell it again. Past hemlock, below hilltop, the aroma comes from man’s wooden lodge, drifting on powerful smoke, burning my nose. My eyes are closed. Behind them, man eats his bloodless rabbit meal: chewing, always chewing; licking fingers clean; sucking every tawny bone bare; he will leave no bloodless meat behind. Before he sleepsContinue reading Dead Rabbits Don’t Run (Reprise) [fiction]