Burnt Offerings

I looked at Jenny, remembering her in her crib, the way her fingers played in mine, the way her cheek lay hot on my skin. I wished I had the power to give her safe passage through this life, but truth is, it would have taken a real witch to do that

He hadn’t believed them on his first crossing, but now . . . now there could be no other explanation.

‘This is the work of witches.’

It boiled and it raged until the rocks wept and the dawn cursed

plifying the voices of underrepresented writers. She now lives in County Durham with her daughter, Molly, and a host of four-legged family members

Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.’

MARY SHELLEY