Billy Hindle

Glints of wire sticking and lacing through gaping holes in the gums.

Crimson droplets stick to it like dew in a spiderweb.

Abnormal metal obstruction in the mouth.

Thin floss-like strands piercing through the gums in multiple areas, wrapping around the... It hits me.

Baby teeth.

I am looking at baby teeth.

I remember being so proud of my loose teeth.

I would tell everyone about them.

The head librarian with her shrewd glasses but kind smile.

The ice cream scooper with his youthful face and crooked grin.

The principal, even though he would just press his mouth tighter and tell me to hurry on.

Everyone.

soon my friends joined in a bragging competition of sorts they laughed and called us cute but i prided myself on being a trendsetter the two fairies apprentice they called me who called me that soon my entire class joined in we just wanted to share our smiles with the world

the third body.

It is long into the night before I return to the examination room.

Hours, hours of talking to the police, phoning in the homicide division, explaining the situation to prying curious staff, but mostly hours sitting in the dark hallway of an empty wing, away from the storm, away from the fire, and most importantly, away from the teeth.

Blood still speckles the blue rubber of my gloves.

The bodies are right where I left them.

The woman on the table, Mr. Goodkins half-hanging out of his homey freezer, mouth wrenched askew and teeth glinting.

It was the first thing I checked.