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A structure designed to command a view

I didn’t mind the tower. The witch had filled it with creature comforts: plush rugs and musical instruments and candles that smelled of the ground I had never touched. On the roof we grew vegetables, which kept our skin milky and glowing. Every night when the witch ascended she had a bit of meat strapped by her hip, and new books every week that she acquired from far flung places. She told me stories of people [she met] down below and I shuddered, [relieved] that I would never encounter such [vagrant acts] up close. At least I had my books.

The witch warned me that I could fall too deeply in love with books and mistake them for a life I’d lived myself. “How rich, coming from you,” I replied and she laughed. On warm nights we would climb to the roof. The witch would take my hand and point at the farthest flickering light down below. I’d take hers and guide it [gently back] upwards, to the draw of the distant stars.


Story Notes

9/100 of #The100DayProject. I knew from the first sentence that I’d begun the wrong story. My fingers itched to start a new card, but I forced the feeling down and just started on a new line. Baby steps.

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