The cannibals next door never bothered anyone; they mainly ate the flesh of the dead anyway, which was great for the environment and the state of our local cemetery. You couldn’t really tell them apart either: they were as neighbourly as anyone else, genial and private, so we turned a blind eye to things we didn’t want to know. But during the summer, donned in their shorts and face up on the sand, we noticed them straight away, marked by the friendly faces of the town’s dead, bared flush in the caps of their knees.
GDS commentary: Helena’s piece is weird and fun. It’s packed with detail, but offers it in a concise and accessible way.
Helena Pantsis (she/they) is a writer from Naarm, Australia. A full-time student of psychology and creative writing, they have a fond appreciation for the gritty, the dark, and the experimental. Her works are published or forthcoming in Voiceworks, Island Online, Grattan Street Press, and Meanjin. More can be found at hlnpnts.com.
