by Rebecca T. Kaplan
I found a store in Chinatown, full of exquisite pens. On one shelf I noticed a severed human finger. It was swollen, distended, obviously dead a while. I bought it, curious, and began writing. From it flowed another’s stories, confessions. It tells of murderous longings. Can’t put it down. My fingers ache. Help, please. Anyone?
Rebecca T. Kaplan is a freelance writer in Brooklyn. Her work has been published in The Vegetarian Journal, Chicken Soup for the Soul, and The Purchase Beat. She graduated from Purchase College in 2013 with a creative writing and journalism major.