I woke up missing my big toe, my hair in a mullet, and with a half-eaten donut on the bedside commode. A shepherd preached in the courtyard and the witch had parked her broom in the middle of the drive. Some kids were smacking each other silly with its funny end.
I clambered up from the linens, grabbed the donut and headed to the yard.
The kids pointed at my hair and the oozing stump of toe.
I had a cross on my T-shirt and wore a suit of chainmail.
“Hit her in the titty with a hard-boiled egg,” they screamed.
The Templar came at me with his sword. He pushed it in and I heard my uterus scream. Something warm pooled between my lips and I saw God smiling and welcoming me home.
She handed me a golden egg. I offered her the donut with my extended palm.
She ate it.
We healed; we were transcendent.
Lucinda Kempe’s work has been published or is forthcoming in b(OINK), Frigg, r.kv.r.y., the Summerset Review, and Jellyfish Review. The recipient of the Joseph Kelly Prize for creative writing in 2015, she’s an M.F.A. candidate in writing and creative literature at Stony Brook University. She has just completed her memoir.