Snail by Arandus Larson

​At the end of the night when you face the executioner’s noose, remember the time your father pointed out the snail to you. In the forest, on a shadowed trail to the cabin, he stopped you from taking the next step. Remember its slithering, rolling crawl, and the slime behind it. Remember how your father stopped you. Remember how he stepped on it instead. Crushed shell over guts. Too young to kill, too old not to. And before the executioner pulls on the black hood, smile at him. It's true, you know each other intimately. He has lived your crime. 

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​Arandus Larson is a student majoring in Secondary English Education and minoring in Creative Writing in Nebraska. She intends to teach high school English before pursuing a career as an English professor and novelist. She is published in SIAMB! magazine, Judas Goat, Grim & Gilded, and Miracle Monocle. You can contact her at arandus.larson@gmail.com.