I BIT THE QUILL, NOT THE BULLET.
Twelve inches of parchment on a family she has spent nine years defending, a quill between her teeth,…
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Twelve inches of parchment on a family she has spent nine years defending, a quill between her teeth,…
A pass note in her father's handwriting for a section she has never heard of, a chained book…
A chair straddled backwards in an empty Great Hall, four hundred candles floating overhead, a cat that could…
Six goals in front of four hundred people, a changing room with the house singing two walls away,…
Twelve pews and one teacher's desk, a free afternoon taken on the strength of a name on a…
The dungeon workbench, skirt up, cauldron steaming, a look over the shoulder, and an instruction to keep stirring.…
One room, one night, one item of clothing at a time, and a rule that neither of them…
Eight pieces of silver in a cabinet with a date on every plaque and not one single name.…
A sentence said at her own table with two meanings in it and four hundred people who cannot…
A question in a corridor, a lie told in four seconds, an accusation turned around at her own…
Seven house cups in a cabinet that belong to about four hundred people and have never once had…
A wand against a chest in a room with no windows, nine pieces of paper with nine versions…
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