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the teenage witch trials

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there’s a reason i can do your tarot cards. there’s a reason i know your star sign off by heart. there’s a reason I know what mandrake, hemlock and belladonna are. there’s a reason why i sometimes wear way too much eyeliner and stare at you with a scary bitchface.

i used to be a witch.

ok, that’s a lie. i am a witch. i don’t practice as much as i used to – other commitments and all that. how, you ask? well, as a kid, i knew i had powers. then i met others with powers. we formed a coven. we spent all our spare time casting spells and terrifying the shit out of people we didn’t like. i can recite the craft off by heart. i own a book of spells. it’s quasi-fucked up. but it all works. i do not know where the power lies, but there is magic in it. maybe it’s because teenage girls are, by definition, horrifying. perhaps it’s the strength you hold in friendship, in tight knit numbers. i’m always suspicious of girls who don’t want to be witches. simpletons.

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