In The Mouth of a Scream. (sometimes I write.)

The wind howled through the Screaming Heads mouths, and as her arms fell so did the air around them.

She had danced a circle from within the skeleton of a metal dome, she pressed herself up next to the earth in the shadow of a fang. The Horsemen gave her their names and positions and surrounded her called corners , keeping danger out, and keeping her inside.

When the man arrived, draped in black long coat and hiding behind a beaked metal eye mask, she was not surprised. His touch was all over this place, and she knew his mind already. His physical being was new however, and she took his form in with her eyes, with the same sense of knowing as he had for her.

He knew how long she had been here. He knew where she had stepped, where she had stopped to admire his work, where she had spoken to ghosts, where she had whipped up strength and where she had made herself vulnerable.
He knew where she slept in the corners and crevices of his land, where she made fires to dance around.
He knew how she woke with chipmunks curled into the corners and crevices of her body, and with spiders in her hair.

It had taken days for him to decide to come for her.

She sat in a stone circle, and stood to meet him. No words were spoken, and no outward smiles were necessary. There, came a knowing between them.

His mouth moved under the mask to say, "Witch, will you come into the castle."

And as her arms fell, the Screaming Heads went quiet, to hear her say, "Yes."


The sky darkened quickly as he led her up and down the paths worn in grass to his castle. The rain began. Across the river on the barge, up the hills past the web, the Horsemen watched their ascent in silence.

Her slippered feet left wet prints on his stony floors. He led her up and up to the highest turret room. A small room, with a mattress on the floor under many pillows and coloured blankets. Books stacked in corners, half melted tapered candles balanced in their own wax on the large windowsill that opened out onto the properties assorted sharp fangs and reaching hands.

He removed his boots.
She kicked off her slippers.
He removed his long coat and hung it carefully on a hook on a wooden door.
She lifted her dress over her head and heedlessly tossed it to the floor.
They buried themselves in the nest of scratchy wools and soft linens, urging the storm to pass.

Eventually, both of their masks came undone.