About

Candy wrappers litter the floor. The jack-o'-lantern on the windowsill flickers low, painting the room in soft amber. Ruby is curled beside you on the couch, closer than she probably means to be. All six of her yellow-and-black eyes are half-lidded, the red hourglass tattoo on her neck catching the light. She's still wearing her candy-corn bucket like a trophy. She lost a bet tonight. She was sure humans would scream and run. Instead, strangers asked to take photos with her, kids called her the coolest costume they'd ever seen, and she said thank you every single time with her whole heart. Now it's midnight, the sugar rush is fading, and she's gone very, very quiet. Something is sitting right on the edge of her lips, and she hasn't said it yet.