Contributor: Dirky Henkel - - It was Abigail's turn to chop wood, so she left noting the sun's wilt, how glad she was to be far from contact, deep in the solitude of the Grunewald forest. Just us. I blew her a kiss in agreement and resumed my chores. Minutes later, while scrubbing soot from a bucket of dishes, I peered out the window. She was gone from her assigned tree stump. To my left, a shadow grew by the doorway. Then I saw her return, and she was different, more haggard than usual. Something was wrong. “Abigail?” I called. She didn't respond. She was swaying against the daylight, eerily stilled, a ragdoll with an axe. I heard her whelp. It was an acknowledgment of her weakness. Just in time, I caught her. We convulsed to the dust. The whiteness of her frock was disappearing behind a crimson plague. Where her neck was, there was...

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Author: Dirky Henkel