187 words (1 minute)
Do you know the number one killer of witches, child?
Not age or infirmity or disease. Those come to us so rarely that they are of minimal concern.
It is certainly not witch hunters, no. The followers of that religion have not been a relevant force in many generations.
439 words (2 minutes)
Little moth, little moth... seeking the light of knowledge so eagerly, so indiscriminately, so relentlessly, so obliviously, you have lost yourself.
You found me, now.
And I am something quite far from that small, flickering light.
202 words (1 minute)
They tried to tell me that moths don't have mouths, at least not after their larval stage.
Ah, to still be such a fool to believe that a thing is only itself.
I know to fear that which a thing is not. I know what a moth does not eat with its mouth that does not exist.
1055 words (5 minutes)
It's a strange party you find yourself in the middle of. You had no idea your friends knew so many different creatures from every plane you've heard of—and a few you haven't.
You don't see anyone you recognize right now, but everyone is chill, and you lower your guard.
375 words (2 minutes)
The moth emerges from its chrysalis, reborn at last into the form it was meant to be.
But, wait, no—
This can't be right.
It can't be this.
What does it do when infinite, hopeful possibility crystallizes into such disappointing certainty?
461 words (2 minutes)
The body of the Saint of Error receives millions of visitors each year, some crossing truly unfathomable distances on their pilgrimage to the holy site.
Across seas of What-Could-Be and oceans of Never-Conceived, pilgrims make their journey.
Some, increasingly, are people.
360 words (2 minutes)
You take your unmoving doll to the diagnostic clinic run by an eccentric witch.
"Ah!" it exclaims during examining. "I know this problem. Your doll has run out of spiders."
You object, saying you're pretty sure that's not how most dolls work, but it adopts a lecturing tone.
337 words (2 minutes)
Your eyes resolve so few shapes under night's shroud, but you are content. There, bathing in golden light, is the most radiant creature you've ever laid eyes on.
When she dances, no gaze can resist her summons, least of all yours.