Brotherhood of Evil Writers
B.E.W is an anonymous collective of American authors brought together for this collection of stories and inspired by illustrations. We gave each of them a selection of pictures with just one request: the stories must contain the word “seed” or “seeds.”
When I was 13 there were two twin sisters in my class. Their names were Anne and Rosie, but we used to call them Anne-Rosies, as if they were one person, but in the plural.
They were the classic inseparable twins, always dressed the same.
The only thing I can remember about them is that one of the two had strange-smelling breath. Maybe at that age we all had breath that smelled strange.
But it was a particularly strange smell.
I had almost forgotten it, before I met you. Yes, because your breath has that same kind of strange smell. Unpleasant. I finally realized what it smelled like. Safflower seed oil. The twin whose breath smelled like safflower seed oil died when we were 15. She died of a stomach tumor. Maybe that’s why her breath smelled so badly.
Maybe you should go for a check-up. I could never remember which twin it was who died.
It was summer the day she told me that her life was flying away. Like seeds in the wind. So she said. She had been diagnosed with leukemia. The non-curable kind.
She looked at me the way a person drowning looks at a life preserver. I knew that if I left her I would blow her life away more quickly.
But I did it anyway.
At her funeral her mother looked at me as if I were a killer.
People are strange.
She liked being looked at. Men would turn their heads like sunflowers when she walked by.
I should have killed them all and scattered their teeth like sunflower seeds.
But there were so many of them. So, I killed her instead. I brought her to a field one August afternoon. Her body is at the bottom of a pit. I think she died from the fall, but maybe not. Maybe she agonized there for hours.
No one has ever found her.
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