She read her reviews and her recipes out from under her wig of childlike hair, red and terribly cut. All of her, bony elbows and satin skin, beneath those thin red wisps that framed not her face, but the teenage figure of a boy. Somehow, she almost made skin that looked to bruise easy seem sexual. Almost. She was terrible. She was what is left after and changed. Rotting.
Mark Magoon writes poetry and short stories, and secret songs for his dog. His poetry can be found in print in After Hours Issue 29 and Midwestern Gothic Issue 13, and on the web at DIALOGIST, Ghost Ocean Magazine, and forthcoming at The Nervous Breakdown. His work has been shared at The Poetry Foundation, as part of The Midwestern Gothic Summer Reading Series in Milwaukee, and as part of The Marble Room Reading Series in Chicago. His first book of poetry, The Upper Peninsula Misses You, is due out in 2015. He lives in the Windy City with a wife far too pretty.