Fridays at the cyber-home of the Hedgewitch are unruly. All right, so that is a bit of a lie. In truth, they are filled with poetry and prose (55 words) ruled by none but the wild muses and wilder wants of the writers birthing them. Since my muse and I adore freedom-kissed tales with words in them, we wrote one.
“Not for Girls”
“The eyeballs are the windows to the brain,” she said.
Science and conviction weren’t made for girls, I thought. “You’re wrong, dearie, they are the windows to the soul.”
She shrugged. “I went through the eyes, touched the back of his skull, ran into plenty of yuck and bits of brain, sir, but no soul.”