Thursday, January 24, 2013


By Colleen Foley

My fists made eccentric patterns of bruise and blood on her body. I broke one bone for each remembered moment of our history.

Each blow seemed to snuff her spell building like a candle. Screams became whimpers whenever she tried to cast. At first, it was like hitting oak. But each time, I felt a new surge of energy, God knows where from, to strike again.

Fist in her hair, I yanked her to her feet in front of me and bit down on the side of her throat. Seth stood before us, still chanting. I didn’t care.

“Nate! NO!”


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