Cursed Bunny

were a hundred and twenty large, triangular scars.

Not the cries of someone driven mad with fear, but the tears of someone who understood and was saddened by their own loneliness—the tears of a human being

Since no one knew the boy existed, no one realized that the boy had disap

The boy did not know how to swim, but his tied-up hands and legs prevented him from swimming anyway. Shouting and flailing, he would begin to sink in defeat when suddenly, something would yank the chain again and he would be flung into the air, dragged through forest and mountain trails, and tossed into the cave once more. Inside the cave, where the boy had air to breath and steady ground beneath him, the boy felt a kind of relief.

herself in years comprised of unremarkable, peaceful days.

The reason was unknown. Nor did he know the people who were dragging him away. In truth, the boy didn’t know who he himself was.

Model 1’s skin is wet from my tear

The back of her head landed on the snare that years ago had held the fox captive.

the boy was busily licking away at the blood underneath his fingernails and around his mouth, as if trying to lap up every drop of it.

Following a strange voice around in a strange place, just because it pretends to be kind …”