They took them away when they found me in the library that day. My tongue was lacerated—I’d gone on a binge. Mouth full of paper cuts. Belly-full with the rough bodies of the books. They said my mouth was bruised with ink and that my smile was black-and-blue and open like a wound. There were bits of words stuck between my teeth. They said it looked like I’d swapped my teeth for blueberries. They told me that when I was opened up, I smelled like a library. That I should be dead with all that ink staining my inside things. They asked me why I’d done it, I said: Because to love something is to devour it whole.
Mary B. Sellers is a mermaid who likes glitter. Originally from Jackson, MS, Mary B. is a recent graduate of Louisiana State University's Creative Writing MFA Program. While there, she worked on her Frankenstein of a thesis, a hybrid novel, RAPUNZEL HAS INSOMNIA, which is part story collection, part fairy tale vignette, and part personal memoir. In her downtime, she likes drinking wine and eating tacos. Her stories and essays have been featured in publications such as: Crab Fat Magazine, Literary Orphans, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, Mauldin House, Moon Sick Magazine, and others.