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The Deading Veil
Women did not always survive the ceremony, or at least not in a way that mattered. Three generations prior, a great-aunt had lain beneath the shroud and never emerged. When someone was at last sent to fetch her they found her catatonic, gossamer fabric clutched tightly in her hands. She died three days later without…
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One for Sorrow
For a moment, the fantasy feels tangible enough that if I can just lean into it, hold onto it tightly enough, it might solidify into reality. But then I glance out the window to check on her in her rocking chair, and where my wife should be I see a mass of black feathers, an…