I was born with flickering light. A tiny lantern under my heart which blinked at the world around it. It attracted the will-o’-wisps and fireflies, the small flame dancing alongside them in mysterious rituals of foggy morns and rainy days. But the world outside the woods in which I was born was not tolerating tiny lights. They came with words and daggers. With oil and axes. And with water; water against the dancing flames. The flickering light was not ready for it. It started to flicker more often, disappearing slowly, […]
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