Bridget Couture
Bio
An aspiring author and poet with an unquenchable love for books. Can often be found typing intensely or substituting reading for sleep.
Stories (40)
Filter by community
Hansel and Gretel
They called it Angel’s Lattice when the webs grew on one’s face. The plague was worse in rain, worse still in sunlight, forever eager to gnaw on the flesh. It danced from hand to hand, lover’s kiss to dying breath, and once settled could not be excised. Invisible it was, yet lethal as a honed blade. The first signs were pallor, weakness, a rustling in the veins. Then came fever and gray-tinted eyes, and finally, the lace. Across the body the murky patterns would sweep. Thin like spider’s legs and elegant, too. They trembled along with the victim, sprouting against no will but their own, to remain etched until death, merciful, interfered. Thus was how it began, and as long as Gretel’s eyes remained open, thus was how it would end.
By Bridget Couture2 years ago in Fiction
Convergence
A woman waltzes around a sunset lake, tired and caught in a net of daydreams. On a bench, a lone stranger adjusts his jacket. He resumes drawing memorized trees; willows, maples, elms. The woman passes him. She glances at his illustrations and the somber beauty they hold. There’s a kindling of a light inside her, reminding her of days long buried. The stranger looks up, and for an instant, a fraction of infinite possibilities align, two shards of being positioned on parallel lines. Another version of the woman moves on, but this one stays.
By Bridget Couture3 years ago in Fiction
