The girls gather round, slow and stupid from the food, the champagne. They are trusting. They are lambs.
“What are we doing?” they ask. “Are we playing a game?”
“Of a sort,” the Brothers say, hefting their weapons.
i liked this one, but it’s shallowly written enough that it’s the kind of story whose appreciation of it depends on what the reader themselves brings to it. it’s a fast read, made from the scaffolding of a powerful story and some striking imagery, with very little character depth or agency or psychological insight. which is fine by me; sometimes simplicity is best to showcase yer dark shadows.
anyway, you decide—i got an all-day birthday feast to start destroying
read it for yourself here: