Kate Simblet

We Follow the Wolf Moon

Flames, fanned, by something unspeakable.  A canker that rancoured, wicked, untreatable. We buried the light, let darkness seep in, our shadows more grubby than secrets.

A bairn born sleeping, still. We sniffed the air, tasted mischief – blamed the blackthorn.  Our poison, pervasive, spread quicker than whispers whipped by the wind. Infected, turned septic, cut deeper than rope. Gripped, strangled, like ivy.

The pack is hungry. We’re silent now. Our wagging tongues choked on the smoke that we stoked – a smoke we spread without fire. Shamed by the moonlight, we follow the wolves to the fields where they’ll burn the witches.

 


This story was shortlisted in the February 2022 Monthly Micro Competition.

About the author: Kate Simblet (she/ her) social works by day and plays with words by night. Lives in Brighton loves the sea. @KateSimblet