Gravebriar

by Casey L. Bond

I’d once believed that scars and wounds belonged to the one who earned them, but now realized they could be passed down from generation to generation.

Lies were viscous, and like magic, fueled with intent. The intent to deceive and conceal. I supposed that when you valued others, their opinions mattered so much that sometimes the vulnerability that came with showing them your truth was more than most were willing to chance.

I would not wilt for him. I would not wilt for anyone ever again.