Written by Michelle Rochniak
Art by Joshimer Biñas
Your pinky would not fit between the spaces in the floorboards, but I slide through with ease. A buffet of succulent exoskeletons sits at the end of the tunnel. You think you’re hearing a mouse scrounging around for some warmth in the insulation, but no, I’m just an abnormally loud centipede. I don’t think you’d like all my legs. They carry me closer to my feast. And even if you could get down here, you’d never see their crackling bodies clambering down my digestive track.