Child Eater

First published in the University of Alaska Fairbanks's Ice Box.

A cannibal lives in the too-tall house, the neighborhood kids whisper between giggles. He’ll crunch your bones in his tombstone teeth, and when his belly swells past his belt, he’ll toss the rest in his grease-sticky pot and boil them into a sickly sweet stock.

Mom says, “It’s all hogwash.”

In the still of night, I’m triple dog dared to edge towards his rickety tower on unsteady feet. Cold moonbeams sneak through forests of makeshift skyscrapers, filling my path with bloodless light. Through gray window grime I see wide glinting eyes and wonder at how lonely a cannibal must be.