by Cole Bucciaglia
Simon’s father was drowned by a sea monster. It first flashed an open-mouthed grin, folding and unfolding its big, pink tongue harmlessly. But then it closed its jaws around the man’s body until little more was visible than one leg, which hung almost comically from its mouth. It pulled away from dry land until they were both submerged, father still caught between its little rows of uniform teeth. As it dove, it left behind a trail of blood, uncurling through the water like red smoke.