Skeletunes
ISSUE #174
My world has always frightened me. Every choice shuts the door on another, and every day contorts itself into some shape I’ve never seen. Fear is a reaction to loss of control—we must flee or fight to regain it.
For all my terror, I find delight in apprehending the grotesque. It’s the illness we ignore that tends to kill us, after all. So let us stare our specters in the eye—we’ll be dancing step-in-step with them for the next few weeks.
We’ve yet to perfect a word for death by thirst. “Dehydration?” Inelegant—a prefix sewn ad-hoc to an embalmed corpse. Yet rarely has the word been so necessary as today!