My name means “freedom” in a lost language,

yet the freedom I knew was long taken

Metal pulls my limbs, surrounds my new world

The little light I’m gifted shows the birds

making their little escape, unnoticed

Boundaries drawn from tension, not safety,

set my life circling the inside,

inside of somewhere never home...

I fear turning old corners,

pricked by glimpses of spirits

I thought I long abandoned.

What if I had once hidden

my graveyard where no shadows

could lurk in the alleyways?

Now they tread over my graves.

In a city built on ghosts,

everywhere is sacred ground...

Bad, bad Santa

doesn’t know what’s coming

Bad, bad Santa

doesn’t know we’re through

Bad, bad Santa

cider-drunk again

Bad, bad Santa

needs to watch his mouth

Bad, bad Santa

tripping through the snow

Bad, bad Santa

thinks he’s coming home

Bad, bad Santa

can’t see us hiding

Bad, bad Santa

will find no toys

Bad, bad Santa

stuck in our trap

Bad, bad Santa

keeps on struggling

Bad, bad Santa

breaks ...

Ever since my great escape,

those who know and those who don’t

praise me, my unending fate

“How did manage to you survive?”

“You’re a breathing inspiration”

“And I could *never* find such drive”

They see how I pushed through hell,

but not how I burned my skin gone

They see how far I flew and fell,

but not how hard I hit the ground

Because I didn’t shatter,

I let no cracks pause my path

Because ...

This relationship is transactional, but we both prefer it that way. Every piece you take of my soul, I get what I need in return.

I haven’t gone hungry since before we met, and now my wished-upon lover and I reside in the castle you supplied. What happened to the previous owners, no matter — I just requested you to release their anguished spirits into your realm.

With them no longer haunting beh...

She’s the only one who ever noticed....

I only admire you from afar

Wondering what I’d feel like in your arms

I repeat your smile in my mind

Pretend you were smiling at me

Are you dropping these clues just for me?

You mention the number nineteen

Of course, you know that’s my age

Really, who do I need to persuade?

I find your address and park behind the trees

Car running quieter than my heartbeat

Leave, slam the door and run through th...

The last parent heads towards the parking lot, his childrens’ hands in his.

A breeze blows through the playground, distilling the cold air that seemed unmovable. Leaves scatter, and I stand up from the picnic table, putting my phone away.

I bunch up Tyler’s coat in my arms, the closest thing I have to a security blanket.

He needs this more than me.

Normally, calling out his name and telling hi...

“Sir, did you hear something?”

Thompsom didn’t falter. “Hear what? The wind?”

The snow pulled my boots in, slowly. My goggles had clouded, but I stared past the fogginess and into the gaping hole.

“I… don’t know,” I told him. “Maybe.”

Wind whipped through the valley, fluttering the thick fabric of our clean-up suits, designed to withstand temperatures even as skin-biting as these.

The ice had...

Lottie is independent.

Despite having little education, she taught herself to read properly and how to incorporate magic with household items. At nineteen years old, she lives in a tiny apartment by herself and, until recently, she paid for everything she owns - which isn’t a lot - as a factory worker.

She has a strong work ethic, as she feels motivated to prove that she is capable and doesn’t n...