Juniper & Thorn

by Ava Reid

I had a secret now, and though Papa had not uncovered it himself, it had shifted the stones in his stream bed.

And what was a story except a berry you ate over and over again, until your lips and tongue were red and every word you spoke was poison?

If you ever loved me, it was only because I was a soft thing you threw down into the bottom of a pit to break your fall.”

“Perhaps,” I replied, fisting the silk of my nightgown. “That will be my own seed to nurture or to kill as I see fit. But you have let a whole tree sprout up inside of you, and its branches are dripping with fat black berries.”