There’s a line of scales running down your back, gills opening like wounds on your sides. You are human, apparently, you are human, you thought, you are not, not, not.

(What is this? A curse? Or is it just something that was waiting in your blood?)

Author: corvidcraft

What's up! I'm a northern Canadian artist/writer. Poli sci student by education, acrylic painter by passion.

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