Arif Hodzic

There is movement in the darkness of Inmate Zero's cell, and I watch with a mix of horror and fascination as the creature stands up and moves all the way to the window.

Grotesque is not an adequate word to describe what I see.

Horrific, terrifying, devastating.

I want to curl up into myself, but I still cannot move.

The creature is at least seven feet tall.

Its arms and legs are spindly, like an old drawing of fairy folk from those coffee table books.

And he even has wings, huge, veiny wings.

They are like leather if it had been left out to dry in the desert for a century.

As they flex and warp behind him, I fear the wings will crack, much like my mind.

My cheek twitches, but that's as far as I get with any sort of response.

I can't shake my head, but he doesn't need my reply.

That was quite relaxing, really.

There's a small movement behind Inmate Zero, and I'm able to flick my eyes in that direction.

Are you looking at this?

Without taking his horrible eyes off of me, his hand reaches back and snatches something from the darkness.

He places it in his mouth and swallows it whole.

It's not until I see the tail slither past his lips that I realize that it's a rat.

I shiver with disgust and jealousy.

Lately I've been trying to wear things that feel great, look clean and actually last.

That's why I've been loving Quince.