(Photographer: Daniel Bran Griffith, the Chattering Magpie) I have discovered over the years a very unique subgenre of witchy woman in the Pagan and Occult..
Come sit, heathen. At long last, I’ve solved the most vexing riddle, and I can see by the ache behind your eyes that you wonder..
A soft and sudden flicker of warm candlelight bade me wake, and I knew the wandering hag-ghost was haunting my halls. Every Blood Moon she..
I won’t be begging you, but I wish you’d join me on my first graveyard walk of the season. We’ll leave at dusk on the..
The first harvest was looming, and my dreams became bitter tea steeped too long in golden light, juniper berries, mountain winds, and resurrected childhood memories..
A faint but persistent sourness in the once-wholesome brine of the sea cast a sudden grief spell upon my cracking eggshell heart, and I summoned..
Holding my grief like a slow-dying hatchling, I sought out the wisdom of the pipe-smoking hag. My plans were to prostrate myself at her feet..