Upon the rocky shores stood a lighthouse.
A beacon. I crawl onto the shores first, leaving my scales for the pearly skin the men love so much. The waves try to draw me back, but to go back means starvation—and I will not die with an empty belly.
With new legs, I stand and look back at the ocean. Heads pierce the ocean’s veil, their eyes watching as I climb the rocky shore. At the top, the fishing village flicks their lights on. My sisters come to stand with me, naked and waiting for the word.
“Hunt,” I order.
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alt="To Cleave the Crone by E.M. McCormack"
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height="630"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="They Only See Me When I Cry by Alara Rogers"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Last Leprechaun by Dakria"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Sitting on Aine's Cursed Stone by Crystal N. Ramos"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
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>