#truestories
I stood at the center of the coven’s circle, flanked by my uncle and a friend of his who led the ritual. It wasn’t my choice. I had no choice.
They handed me an old, cracked book and told me to read an excerpt aloud. I refused at first, pleading, but they pressed on with the necromancy.
The air smelled of burning herbs and wet feathers. A **** was swung around me, its wings flapping against the cold night, before guttural words were muttered into the wind.
Then came the bath — water mixed with thick oil, sliced fruit, and other strange concoctions. The liquid clung to my skin like a second layer, its scent heavy and impossible to ignore. Fear shivered through me as the cold bit deep.
My uncle’s voice was low, each syllable vibrating in the stillness as he guided me through the reading. With every word, I felt an unseen weight coil tighter around my chest, tendrils winding around my heart.
They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I knew he had stepped onto it. The air felt charged, as if something ancient had stirred from a long, hateful sleep.
My mother stood outside the circle, her eyes fixed on me. They glowed with a strange light — not joy, not love, but a hunger I didn’t recognize. It was only then I realized there was a part of her I had never known. Her hands trembled slightly, not from cold, but from anticipation.
The ritual ended in silence. A silence so deep it pressed into my ears, whispering of secrets too heavy to name. I felt it before I saw it — an unnatural presence, cold and suffocating, curling at the edges of the shadows.
This isn’t over, something inside me whispered...
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 9:47 AM UTC
I fall in love with small kindnesses.
The world is cruel, and you are not.
And that is all it takes to win me.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
What therapy does?
It validates the reasons
I’m still mad at you.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
There are days when I forget
Misremember
Wander
Lost in a cacophony
Of bruising thoughts and jagged
Tumultuous
Phrases
Rising from my mind like rocks
To break skin and
Snap bone
Words that are leveled at me
By my own lips
Or yours
Words that settled on my heart
Crooked and cruel
Scarring
Lurking there always even
When I know most
Are lies
So I have written new words
On my body
My skin
Bears marks
In permanent pain and ink
Indelible
Phrases
To turn to when I forget
Misremember
My name
The ways in which I am good
Worthy of love
Desired
Courageous and deserving.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
Look, its just chocolate
And only the ears are gone
Please stop crying now
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
this doesn't end well
the moment i chased
that glimmer of light
across your cheekbone
with lingering eyes
on the first evening
i knew it would not
and still
i reached out my hand
to trace the glowing
curve of blood warm skin
because how could i
with eyes in my head
and a beating heart
pretend to deny
such beauty
when your lips tilted
sly corners lifting
you spoke words from my
childhood my home my
own place of safety
as if they were yours
too and meant something
profound
and it was over
between one breath and
the next my heart was
no longer mine but
i did not notice
until it was too
late to look away
to stop
the way i turned my
whole self towards you
inevitably
compulsively like
magnetic north or
a sound in the dark
you were laughing and
lovely
this doesn’t end well
but it could and does
it matter when you
lean into my side
the thought blazes through
my veins whiskey warm
that it might be worth
the end
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Doing work experience
in a nursery, aged fifteen.
All mood swings
and low self esteem.
Feeling self conscious
cause my face was spotty.
Little girl of about 3
comes up to me and asks
"Do you have chicken pox?"
Proceeds to tell me
What her Mummy
had done to help hers
And if I'm gonna get up from my seat
*Cause you may be Moody,
You may be spotty
But you can still come
and play hopskotch with me.*
Rid me of my newly found vanity.
Made me laugh so much,
Put me at ease
That level of inquisitive innocence,
Without any judgement,
That blessed naivete.
I don't think there's a
more endearing quality.
**A little one rarely fails to
restore my faith in humanity**
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC