In my darkest, most indulgent moments, I yearn to birth a great, long-tongued demoness into this world. She would be conceived on an Autumn evening..
Permit me, those with raised brows who suck their teeth at recklessness, to invoke my inner temptress tonight. Just for the few hours between dusk..
I am summoned by the whispers of the terrified maidens, the broken down mothers and the tired crones. Their voices beckon me from my shallow,..
My too-grey world is on the cusp of Spring, and the ghost of a friend long-gone wakes me with a challenge: “I dare you, woman...
My poorly painted eyes snapped open, breaking the crusty seal of tears and mascara, and I held my breath until my ribs ached. Yes, this..
Just after dusk when, but for the trees, the snow and sky seem as one, I squint to see your twisted horns in my woods...
Within her Maiden’s blood courses the wisdom of the ancients, and, little by little, she is writing her own holy book. By candlelight on early..

This work by The House of Twigs / Author of Article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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