The Price of Youth
by K.Z. Morano
I was a rotting fruit… fattening flies… waiting to be harvested by death.
I stared at the mirror as the maggots of old age consumed me. Skin, sinew, skeleton, soul…
Then the peddler came, with his potion and persuasive tongue.
It seemed like a fair price at the time.
After all, what need have I for toes…
Or posterior teeth…
Or ovaries…
They’re easily concealed.
Three wealthy husbands later, he returned.
“Fear not, Madame,” he chitchatted as he severed my leg. “Long skirts are fashionable these days.”
I opened my mouth to scream… and silence exploded within the tongueless cavity.