Member-only story
The Girl Who Wasn’t
Fantasy
Once upon a time — you know these words, as if they were vital to your life’s blood, as if they were a spell that would free you from a curse. But words are only words, or so we are taught. We don’t think on the power of our words, especially the old ones that can cut as if they are sharp knives. We think our words fall flat to the ground as soon as we utter them, but instead they fly on stealthy wings, as straight as arrows to their marks. And, oh yes, they have their marks.
Rosetta Moorchild wouldn’t have sought the power of the woods that night if not for the poison words had afforded her. But I get ahead of myself — that is a tale I will share with you in due time.
Come, sit down around the fire. You look chilled to the bone, weary traveler.
Let me tell you a tale that will sink into your tired skin.
~
Rosetta Moorchild knew she shouldn’t have been born. She knew this with the instinct of those who know they will never wed or have offspring. Terrible things happened around her, you see — strange, dark things. The children who played in her proximity would fall suddenly, gravely, ill. One misspoken word could make anyone fall under her bidding for a time. The only ones immune were her parents — but they bore the brunt of the effects of her strange power. The three of them…
