Natalie was born in Enoch Bunch’s trailer bed, a-way pas’ midnight, under a rare third moon in chill October. Or maybe she was left there. Continue reading
Yaga
Prayer For a New Year
I meant well, sending her off on an impossible quest for the Silverword Cascade, hoping she’d find distraction and joy during the painful waiting time until her childhood friends return to her; No Baba Yaga am I — my magic is limited to perception only of magic’s heady limerance, and I hadn’t felt her subtle glow. Continue reading