Al

 

“You gotta burn it,” the neighbor said, “or it will return and feed on us all.”

“No, this will hold him,” Daddy said as he locked the door to the barn, “that’s Al, he’s our boy.”

I felt it gnawing in my belly, each day worse than the one before. It desired more than my family could offer—it longed for them.

In my weakness, it grew strong—claiming more of each day for itself until I finally awoke.

It looks just like me, but hungry and frail, weeping at its surrounding, slaughtered family—a flaw I will not adopt.

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