The Wicked Deep

by Shea Ernshaw

pastel skin.

Whf is pastel skin

* * *

Imagine riding a boat to school

cinnamon-red hair

The colors used to describe things are so unque.

but the ones who did tear out pages from their notebooks and let the wind carry them away—a

This is my one regret. The reusage of old notes wuld of been soooooo helpful in later years.

seaweed coconut—in

Interneting

“Forcing a girl to do anything she doesn’t want to is reason enough to kick your ass,”

Claps all around for common scense.

“There’re always reasons to stay,” he says. “You just need to find one reason to leave.”

the reason why I know the Swan sisters are real.

Whatttttt

Marguerite was the oldest at nineteen on the day of her death, Aurora eighteen, Hazel seventeen. Born on the same day. Died on the same day.

Love is an enchantress—devious and wild. It sneaks up behind you, soft and gentle and quiet, just before it slits your throat.

so I peel them away.

I wish the kindle had emojis *Wide eyes to the side emoji*

I might love him. And it has tilted my universe off center, the frayed edges of my life starting to unravel. Loving someone is dangerous. It gives you something to lose.

But he doesn’t fully understand what that will mean: taking a life. It will change him. It’s not something he can take back.

HOw does she know that? Has a sister taken her body before? Maybe the younget sister?

“Don’t forget,” she says crisply, “it’s your fault we ended up like this in the first place.”

Whattttttttttttt

“And you’re starting to think that maybe there’s a way to keep this body you’re in, to stay human forever?” She steps away from the fire, pushing her lower jaw out like she might laugh. “You’re fucking naive, Hazel.

I KNEW IT