A Lullaby for Witches

by Hester Fox

Every sunrise, every drop of rain was a paradigm of magic, proof of a miraculous world.

... a gift, a manifestation of the Goddess & the God; the universal spirit/current/force/consciousness that flows throughout the creation. )O(

I didn’t realize until he gave me a long, slow smile how much I had ached for that connection with another person. I had thought that the trees and the brown rabbits and the moon were companions enough for me, but now I knew otherwise. I wanted a man to look at me with something other than leering curiosity. I wanted to know what a lover’s touch felt like.

Though soon enough I would learn that love was not the tranquil stream I had thought, but a violent torrent of a river, one that could pull me under completely.

Either way, it was lonely to lie so close next to someone, yet feel so very far away.

How easy it was for the past to become gilded, a shimmering memory of what once was nothing more than an ugly truth. But a tarnished memory was better than none at all, and even a clouded and cracked mirror would still shine when held to the light.