“Pretty Young Thing” – Bridget Onest ’21

The house had been empty for years. Kids used to get high in the fancy master bedroom and leave crumpled beer cans on the dusty loveseat in the foyer. They found her there during one of their Friday night rages. Their minds so clouded by the buzz of cheap beer and stolen weed that they didn’t quite realize she was dead. Her sunken eyes were still brilliant blue and she had one of those long thin noses most girls paid for. They tugged at the neckline of her nightgown and made drunken guesses as to her exact size. Her long, dull hair took lumps of gray flesh along with it as they pulled at it playfully. Maggots wiggled out of the cavities of her ears, got tangled in her chain earrings, and squirmed lazily.