The Near Witch

by Victoria Schwab

part of me has been sheltering that matchstick ever since the flame went out.

It starts with a crack, a sputter, and a spark. The match hisses to life.

Sounds seem sharper, too, at night. A whistle. A crack. A child’s whisper.

“Fear is a strange thing,” he used to say. “It has the power to make people close their eyes, turn away. Nothing good grows out of fear.”

said, “This is their home, Lexi. They won’t turn their backs on it, even though it turned its back on them.”