III: Prose by Arielle Tipa




 (Gif from The Company of Wolves)







I walk as if the world has robbed me of a favor. It's getting late and I head into the woods where there are bears. Bears smell blood and so I turn myself into a boy.


I succeed in laying my head on my lap and I realize I was born on a Tuesday which means I will die on a Tuesday. There are MISSING posters taped to trees for children who look like their pets. Slowly, I remove one with the picture of a girl who looks like a dog I used to own. I keep it. The trees are littered with underwear and there's a candle right next to me. The sun is almost up and so I decide to hold a seance for past lives and all of my imaginary friends show up. They hand me something round and I say:


I want enough money to buy love

I want enough love to make money a thing unwanted


But the magic 8 ball only tells me "reply hazy try again".


I want enough confidence to seductively lick a knife


This time, the ball tells me "ask again later".


I wonder what it sounds like to die. The sun is up and I sneeze into the crook of my arm where there is now evidence of the seance and I feel dizzy. There's a woman who smells like a bonfire of windchimes and I tell her I don't believe in the devil. I realize the woman is a bear and I bleed heavier this time. 






Arielle Tipa is a writer and editor who lives near a haunted lake in New York. Her work has been featured in Grimoire Magazine, (b)OINK, and Alien Mouth, among others. She currently runs Occulum, a journal of the unabashed and unorthodox. 

Please reload

© 2019 Rag Queen Periodical  website  designed by M. Perle Tahat