The Honey Witch

by Sydney J. Shields

It is the spring of 1831, and Althea Murr celebrates her hundredth birthday alone.

“One day, I will be a rose. And I will plant myself somewhere so beautiful that I will never want to leave.” Her mother laughed. “And what if someone wants to pluck you?” “That is what the thorns are for,” she said.

These are the wild women who run barefoot through the meadow, who teach new songs to the birds, who howl at the moon together. Wild women are their own kind of magic.

what is so wrong about being a bitch? It is the closest a girl can be to a wolf.

“You are a wild creature, Miss Claude. I hope to see you again,” he calls after her. She waves goodbye and then takes off in a run, knowing that she will not allow herself to be tamed.

It is better to be lost in a beautiful daydream than trapped in a dim reality.

“We are witches, darling. Every eldest daughter in our lineage is a witch, including you.”

A Honey Witch provides women with choice—something they are all too often denied.

“What any woman wants for herself is not for you to decide. You would do well to remember that.”