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By Grace Bowen

holy water, silver bullets, wooden stake

you’ll do whatever it takes to keep them out

throw salt over your shoulder, hum a pretty tune, count to one hundred

but they can reach you in fifty

so you cover the mirrors, desperate for solitude,

convinced that this is your destiny

but they creep in through your body

you are their vessel

and you become what you once feared


Grace Bowen is a writer from England. She generally writes poems and occasionally short stories featuring copious amounts of monsters and inexplicable happenings. When not writing she’s probably reading.


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