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The Goddess of Woe

The Goddess of Woe

Observing them from behind the invisible veil,
Cackling over their sin and pain entwined souls,
Twisting their paths back toward the old roles,
Playing with their fate till the last doleful wail.

Following her as she stops by the ancient clock,
Whispering to her words of otherworldly bliss,
Preparing fateful circumstances of the last knock,
Annihilating hope of future with a baneful hiss.

Ripping soulmates asunder is my demonic play,
Giving and taking with insouciant and cruel whim,
Showing the mortals their lives are fragile clay,
Filling their hearts with pain throbbing to the brim.

Delighting in brokenness caused by fickle hearts,
Infusing hope only to shatter it anew with glee,
Trampling dreams of picking up the broken parts,
Wreaking havoc before to other amusements I flee.
Jana Vasilj-Begovic

Writing is a creative outlet for me. My regular job deals with military foreign language training and testing (Department of National Defence of Canada), a field in which I have publishe…

Witch Soup









Witch Soup



What the hell you look at me for? Close your damned eyes! So, you are bleeding, what am I supposed to do now? Turn away your accusing eyes! I only chopped your leg off, not your head…I need it for my soup! My witch soup. Tasty soup. Magic soup.  Stop this weeping, I promise I will heal you with that soup, a new leg will grow on you once you taste my witch soup. My lovely soup, your white leg floating around with a wild squirrel. Leg-squirrel-witch soup. I´ll serve it well. With onions and cream. You´ll feel much better once I feed you my leg soup.

I should pour some of it in a can and then close the can and sell it on market-place. One good healing soup, ladies and gentlemen! Perhaps I should take a waterproof marker-you know how it rains all the time- and write “Warhol´s Soup” on it, so it could sell better. “Campbell soup can. Witch-squirrel-leg”. Just in case, I should require myself a bullet-proof can, in case someone feels like shooting Warhol again.


My soup is hot. It´s one damn hot soup. Almost as hot as you were. Now you only have one leg, you crippled invalid. Even your leg was not good enough, it´s still not soft. The meat is stuck to the bone like some rubber. And yet I stirred and boiled it so long… I don´t understand.

I should take that leg out and throw it to the dogs. You hear ´em barking? Yes, of course you do. Or maybe you want that bone? No? I thought so. Oh, be nice now, I was just kidding, I´ll take it away. Now, there. Be a good girl. Come here and have a taste. Oh, right, how can you walk… I forgot. I come to you. Open your mouth. Wider! Swallow! Don´t you dare think about spitting it out! Don´t you know how expensive this soup is? Have you any idea how much it is worth? Of course, you don´t. Did it taste good? Do you feel anything already? Any sign of a new leg? Why you gag like that? Stop it at once! You better not be throwing up in my kettle. What did you do now, little bitch? Why your eyes like this? Look at me! Look at me bloody hell! Look what you have done with my room. Look at all this mess! I hate you! I hate you! Yes, you! And I´ve always hated soup.

Annika Lindok 



Annika Lindok is an English teacher in Estonia. Her work has been previously published in Zoetic Press´s Nonbinary Review, Reaktor, Peacock Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, Scryptic Magazine, Five 2 One and others. Upcoming in Degenerate Literature. She is a prose editor for Escapism Literary Magazine: https://escapismmagazineblog.wordpress.com/

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