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Weekly Contest #207
Let’s just get this out of the way from the start: I am not a witch. I was doing a legitimate master’s in medicinal botany when the war flared up and my lab was destroyed. I don’t practice black magic. Magic is not real, no matter what the modesty enforcers say to keep women in line. I let my clients think it’s magic because science is the men’s realm they’re trying to circumvent, and because I’m only allowed to operate because the modesty force thinks I peddle wives tales and expired tylenol. To them it’s just tea leaves and hope, a wa...
Shortlisted for Contest #206 ⭐️
CONTENT WARNING: This story contains themes of suicide and self harm which some readers may find confronting.“Hope” is the thing with feathers -That perches in the soul -And sings the tune without the words -And never stops - at all -And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -And sore must be the storm -That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm -I’ve heard it in the chillest land -And on the strangest Sea -Yet - never - in Extremity,It asked a crumb - of me.--Emily Dickinson“Elodie, baby, I’m just going to hide the knives. I’m not j...
Weekly Contest #205
I’ve never been that into weddings. Like when I was little I didn’t dream of myself in white and put my mom’s sheer scarves over my face and take those weird steps where you bring your foot next to the first and stop before you take the next one. And now I’m actively against them: they’re this weird relic of a patriarchal society where the dad gives the daughter (whom he owns!) to the husband because he needs an heir factory and the dad doesn’t want to pay to feed the girl anymore. Nevermind the only reason he has to spend money on her is th...
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