Latest Fiction Post
- To Survive August 7, 2018
Ella Andrews burned it because she had to. She snuck out after most of the girls in her boarding home were asleep. The books felt smooth and thick in her ungloved hands. Though it was the dead of winter, she wanted to touch them as she let them go.
Several blocks down the street stood the grove. The smells of dew and mud mingled with the pages. Knowing the sticks would be too wet to light, Ella had brought her own logs. She only used magic to dry the ground, a circle for the fire. This had to be a human act. It was humans who were driving her to burn the grimoires.
It took time to start the flames. Her hands being numb from cold didn’t help. She wanted to quit, to lock her books away. But that wouldn’t be good enough. If they were hidden, they would eventually be found.
The pages crinkled, folding in on themselves and burning brown to black. Ella couldn’t look away. Spells from her ancestors became lost to memory. She was the only one who knew all of them, the last in her line. And in that moment, she knew they would die with her. It was too dangerous to teach magic to anyone unrelated. Plenty of witches had turned in exchange for amnesty. You couldn’t be too careful.
Ella watched until the fire burned itself out. Then she ground the ashes into the mud and planted flowers on top of them, a few irises. Using an ...
Latest Poetry Post
- Losing Reality August 9, 2018
Staring at the mirror and knowing
that she could
She likes the letting go
and the bravery
and the party.
She likes people wanting her
but she likes the jolt before
the touching hands
and the way the girls
just grab hers,
rest their heads like it’s nothing.
Flirt like it’s nothing.
Kiss like it’s nothing.
And maybe it is.
Can’t it just be playing?
She feels the pull,
the dangerous addiction to excitement and numbness and nothing.