by Sydney Leigh

I’m so sorry…I truly wish I had better news. I’m surprised by the findings myself. 

The doctor’s words hung densely in the air between us, swirling tar and toxins forging skin, skull, muscle, tusk—

If there’s anything I can do… 

—five short tons of malignancy.

I know how hard this must be for you both. 

But did he? My husband’s hands shook long after he placed the phone down.

The beast descended with the crippling weight of reality, dropped to one knee.

I climbed on, dug my heels in his poison skin, and we rode, metastasizing, into the blinding light.


Sydney Leigh is the evil literary double of a mostly sane writer, editor, photographer, artist, English teacher, and native of the North Shore. She and her one-eyed muse sweep the misty mountainsides of Valhalla with falcons on their shoulders, searching for dark stories to tell.  Look for some of her latest work in forthcoming publications from Written Backwards, Great Old Ones Publishing, Eldritch Press,, and in Widowmakers, the James Newman Benefit Anthology. You can find her on Facebook, Goodreads, or at Villipede Publications, where she spends her days charming letters and constructing nightmares—or drop into her website at

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