When they come knocking, I take them by the hand that had been a fist moments before and show them something beautiful— a black creek in the woods, a doe’s skull in the field. I lead them just far enough away that they can still see the house, but not say if it is made of straw or stone. While they are dipping their feet in the water or watching how the sun sets on bone, I walk back to bolt the door and light a fire, holding myself as they had offered to do.
-Forthcoming in Banshee Iss. 2.