Sunday, 30 October 2016


by Natalie Prado

“Drat,” Marjorie said, as the blade from the cheap supermarket carving kit slipped and bent. She wiped her sticky hands down the front of her paisley apron, probably ruining it.

The teeth were always the problem. Marjorie was fine with slicing the top and scooping the insides out with her wooden spoon, but she had always struggled with detail work.

She sighed and, abandoning the blade, reached over to the pair of pliers instead. She clamped them down on the recalcitrant lower tooth and, with a firm grip and a grunt of effort, managed to pry it from the jawbone.

Author bio: Natalie Prado lives in Baltimore and is bad at finishing things. You can follow her at @mightbenatalie

Lantern is part of 101 Fiction issue 13.

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