A drokke bled here.
There are only red flowers in the fields, red like the colour of fresh blood. The scent that rises is like earth touched by drops of rain, with a hint of honey.
Yibrilna nestle their small bodies in the grass and flowers, their skin as black as the night sky, lips red like the flowers they nurture. And when the stars are out at night, the Yibrilna hum softly. They stretch out their arms to catch the glittering stardust as it falls.
Blåkulla is a legendary meadow where the Devil holds his earthly court during a witches’ sabbath that coincident with Easter. The only way of getting there is by flying, usually on a broom or some other enchanted tool. During this sabbath the witches eat and drink and dance for days, stopping only to have sex with each other, the demons and the Devil himself.
In the night she can hear whispers: we’re monsters, we’re monsters, you and I, and the sea is our only friend. She smiles, counts her breaths, her heartbeats, and tears the ships apart.