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The witch laughed, a coarse, grating sound. “You want your brother back, do you? Well, too bad, you fool, the dead belong to me! Although…” Her colorless eyes racked over the girls body, taking in the dichotomy of shaking knees and a determined stare. “You’ve shown some great chutzpa in coming here to me, quite brave, yes. I like that. Alright, a life for a life.” She clapped her hands. An elderly man appeared in a whiff of smoke, holding a cane. The witch took the staff in his moment of disorientation and tossed it to her protester. “A life for a life. Take this old geezer off my hands and I might be able to bring your brother back for you. It’s symbolic, really, innocent blood to pay the price for the dead. You have 20 seconds. Go.” A fair trade, Amy thought, as she picked up the staff. Not going back empty-handed to that crying mother of mine. God forgive me.

writing since 2011 · 2 entries · 1 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Antigone showed up.

1longest streak

1days written

14entries / week

on this day 15 years ago

Antigone wrote about trade
“$60 for ten minutes, girl, can't argue with that. Watch me, she said. He saw the glint of metal only seconds before the hole was blown through his skull. Not a fair trade, she'd thought, a mere 60…”

the words Antigone reaches for

secondsfairtradewitchbrotherdeadhandsstafftenminutesgirlarguewatchglintmetalhole