She leaned forward a little and it wasn’t until then that I really got scared, imagining her in this new room in my new house, those teeth tearing my guts. I opened my mouth to scream for my mom and dad but right before I could, she vanished, just as if she’d never been there at all. I made a small sound, like the one you make at the doctor’s, when they put the tongue depressor in your mouth. I blinked: nothing. She was still gone. I bit my tongue until I tasted blood—proof I was still awake. I expected something more to happen, and stayed awake a long time, waiting. The girl stayed gone.
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Dara Scully
Nightingale And Swallow Part II, Fiction By Taylor Sykes
When he’s back in the store and I’m alone again, I let myself lean into the worn leather steering wheel, clinging to it like a body. I can’t keep myself from crying when I think about that boy and what Caroline did to him. So I cry until it rains and then until it rains harder, until the sound of wind and water striking the truck is louder than I could ever be.
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Dara Scully
Nightingale And Swallow, Part I, a Fiction Piece by Taylor Sykes
His lips look purpled already, but it must be the moon’s coloring coming in from the window. I push a puff of smoke into his spit-soaked face. It hits like a burst of water. Then comes the heft in my chest, a weight the size and shape of a fist. Before I can think too much about it, I push him on his side, face down.
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