by Colleen Foley
I remember Seth punching me hard and shoving me
into the circle. Blood poured from nose and mouth onto the sigils. I
felt something rise in me, beast-like, spitting and growling.
Then something else came. It burst through the fragile seams of mind and body, with one purpose: to go home.
“Follow it. Find it. Hunt it!”
did beat him then, hard and long. …so good to give up my weary
attempts at holding onto etiquette and civility when what I wanted was
an orgy of blood and bone and pain.
His and mine, together.