#which are those like tiny itty bitty ones with the very thin rings

[isa-ah]

i think 12g is just an awkward size to be bc its a middle step. 14g is standard, 16g is the most popular, and if youre below those then youre probably going even lower than 12. 10g is easier to shop for but i get squicked out about the idea of gauging it myself even though i WANT to wear a 10...

[madameber]

Witchcraft

“My life is over!”

The girl downed another shot of vodka and let out a long sigh, relishing in the burning trail it left down her throat. From the other side of the counter, the bartender looked at her pityingly, and immediately refilled the girl’s glass. The afternoon sun shone happily through the windows, illuminating the nearly-empty bar.

“There, there, it’s not that bad,” said the bartender. “You thought he loved you, but he doesn’t. It’s time to move on.”

“You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” cried the girl. “He told me that he was crazy about me. Said I was beautiful. He put me on a fucking pedestal, and the second another, prettier, more talented girl batted her eyelashes at him, he threw me right off. We were supposed to be staying here, together, you know. Share the room upstairs, visit all the pretty sights, spend our nights watching the stars… and here I am. Alone.” She sniffed. “Worthless.”

“And you think drinking away your problems will do the trick?”

“I’m happy to try.”

“I might have a better solution for you.”

“Oh?”

The bartender leaned forward. “If you travel down the eastern road leading out of town, you’ll come to a crossroads with a broken signpost in the middle. Take the path leading into the forest, and you’ll find a tiny cottage, with a thatched roof and a smoking chimney.”

“Who lives there?”

“Two women. Recluses. They never come into town, but they have some of the younger boys deliver the essentials right to their doorstep, leaving the money for them outside. The townsfolk don’t like them much, tend to call them “witches” – they think that if you get too close, they’ll put a hex on you, or worse. Rumor has it that those who wander into their home are never the same again.”

The girl snorted. “Surely not!”

“You can laugh, but that’s what the stories say. To be honest, I’ve never met either of them, and I’d say the same goes for most people living here. But sometimes, the odd traveler like yourself decides to go and take a look around, and when they come back – and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it – it’s like the whole world has opened up to them. They’re completely different for it.”

“And you want me to go to them?”

“Well, I won’t guarantee you anything. But it can’t hurt, can it? If anything, you can think of it as a nice little daytrip to get your mind off this boy. It’s a lot healthier than day-drinking, anyway. And who knows? Maybe they do work magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” said the girl. She traced her finger over the rim of her glass. “That being said, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

The bartender had not warned her that the road would be so long. Her journey into the heart of the forest took her down a narrow, meandering path, obstructed by the overgrown roots of old trees and the odd anthill. She’d walked off all the intoxication from her system, and while the shade from the trees kept her cool her throat burned for water. Maybe the bartender had been winding her up, had grown tired of her incessant moaning and decided to get rid of her for the rest of the day, lest she scare of future customers with alcohol-induced tears.

Yet, just when she was considering admitting defeat and making her way back to the inn, the path before her grew brighter, and the trees stayed back as she stepped into the sunlight. She had emerged into an almost perfectly circular clearing, where the grass reached up to her knees, sprinkled with tall stalks of lavender here and there. In the middle stood a small cottage with a thatched roof. And, just as the bartender had promised, a thick cloud of smoke was rising from the chimney. The cottage was a shabby little thing, composed of dirty stone and topped with clumps of straw. A poorly constructed fence snaked its way around the building, barely enough to ward off the most determined of visitors. The squeaky, wobbly gate did nothing to halt her progress, nor did the strong smell of something that was not-quite tobacco, but not not tobacco, either. Through the closed door she could hear wild laughter, a vibrant sound which ceased the moment she knocked.  

“Better open the door yourself, love, we’re not too eager to get up right now,” called a voice, followed by a bout of giggles.

The girl pushed the door open. It was a bright, beautiful day outside, but the curtains were shut, and the small, cluttered room was illuminated with the glow of small tea lights scattered here and there. There were shelves filled to the brim with glass jars, containing plants, herbs, flowers, and glittering rocks. The floor was hidden beneath a brown patterned carpet, and even that was hard to make out between the colorful cushions splayed around the square, antique coffee table sat in the middle of the room. On opposite ends of the table, wreathed in smoke, lounged two women.  

One was clearly taller than the other, her long legs stretched out beside the table, while the other sat-cross legged, elbows resting on her knees. The lanky one had massive hazel eyes, and her thick black hair was twisted into a messy braid that crept down the sleeveless khaki blouse she wore. The other girl, slightly plumper, with chipmunk cheeks and full lips, wore her hair in an afro, and hid her shape beneath an unflattering gray dress.

“Come in, quick, and close the door!” she commanded, and the girl immediately did as she was told. “What brings you to our home?”

“The bartender at the inn in town told me about this place,” said the girl. “My week has been absolute shit. I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but the bastard left me for another girl.”

“And what exactly does that have to do with us?”

“Well, she said that you might be able to help me, that rumor has it you could –”

“What, fix a broken heart?” the taller one cackled, taking a long drag of what looked like a cigarette. “Oh lord, do you hear this girl, Reina?”

“Loud and clear, Gail,” said the other woman. She levelled a cool stare towards the girl in the doorway, dark eyes glinting in the low light. “Tell us, child, what else would you have us do for you? Take away your suffering? Curse the man who hurt you? Draw you a map that leads straight to your one true love, so you can avoid all the pitfalls along the way?”

“Here, girl, why don’t you take drag of this?” said Gail. The bracelet on her wrist jangled noisily as she offered the thin white cylinder to the girl.

“No thanks,” said the girl, finally connecting the dots in her head. “I’m not interested in getting high right now. Drunk, perhaps. But I’ll settle for water. It was a long walk.”

“Yeah, we’d hoped that would stop strangers from wandering over here,” said Reina, slowly picking herself up from the floor. “And yet, while those from the town know to stay away, we still get the odd stray poking around. I don’t know what they told you, child. That we’re demons? Witches? That we can cast spells and fly on brooms and eat children? That we can fix what’s broken? It doesn’t matter. The peace of mind you’re looking for isn’t here.” She made her way through a narrow doorway, and returned a few seconds later with a clay jug and three cups balanced in the crook of her arm. Placing them on the table, she filled one with water and gave it to the girl. “We’re not magic. Not witches. Just people.”

“Now, that’s not true,” said Gail, her wide smile revealing a slight gap between her front teeth. “I’ve got all the peace of mind I need wrapped up nice and tight right here. One puff, and everything goes away. If that isn’t witchcraft, I don’t know what is.”

The girl sank down onto a cushion, her spirits sinking alongside her. Reina followed suit, took the spliff from Gail, and exhaled smoke rings which travelled across the room, breaking into lines and squiggles as it crept towards the fireplace and up the chimney.

“So, this boy broke your heart,” Reina stated. The girl nodded, and without realizing what she was doing, reached out to take a drag herself. A stillness settled over her bones, and she blew the smoke out in one long sigh. Gail smiled approvingly, while Reina shook her head. “Tell me something new. Everyone who visits always brings their problems along with them.”

“Damn stupid problems as well,” said Gail. “It’s not really a problem if it’s got an easy fix.”

“Mine is easy to fix?” asked the girl. What did that even mean? Was there hope for her just yet? The moment she stepped through that door, she’d felt devoid of all hope, having found the rumored almighty witches to be nothing more than two pot-smoking hermits.

“Yes. Gather some wood. Strong, wood, mind you. None of them twigs fallen from trees, you need some proper, thick wood. Take that wood, and build a bridge. It doesn’t have to be a very big one, it can be an itty bitty arch. Build that bridge, and then – I hope you’re still following, girl – get over it.”

The women erupted into a cacophony of giggles, and the girl huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Unhelpful.”

“Shouldn’t have expected anything more,” said Reina.

“Girl, I’ve had my heart broken so many times the pieces have started to travel ‘round my body,” said Gail. “You’d have to check my ankles for a pulse.”

“And how did you get over it?” asked the girl.

“Who said she had?” teased Reina, earning herself a dirty look from Gail. “Oh, don’t be mad – I’ll tell you what, I’ll take care of rolling the next spliff, alright?”

Pouting, Gail looked away, muttering something sinister under her breath.

“Dear god,” said the girl. “I’m going to end up like you, aren’t I? Wasting away in some forest, crying my eyes out over a boy who won’t give me a second thought anymore.”

“Who said anything about crying their eyes out?” asked Gail. “Don’t misinterpret our situation.”

“But this is what you do, isn’t it? You sit down, get high, and repeat.”

“We’re also growing a garden,” said Gail.

“I’d say it’s more of a plant right now,” said Reina. “We were herbologists, back in the day. After studying herbs for so long, it’s nice to bring your own to life. We’ve just been taking our time.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” said the girl.

“To you, sure,” said Reina, a rueful grin playing on her lips. “But it’s our time, and we’ll choose what we do with it. We don’t like the way they do things in town. We didn’t like the people we worked with, the people we slept with, none of them. There was so much we couldn’t stand, that we left. I haven’t regretted a single moment since.”

“You’re such hypocrites!” The girl’s outraged cry startled the women, and she leapt to her feat, her blood boiling. “You sit here mocking me, poking fun at the fact that I’m miserable because the only guy in the world I want doesn’t want me anymore, and yet you’ve isolated yourselves completely from society just because you ‘didn’t like it.’”

Without warning, Gail stood up, towering a full head over the girl. As she stepped closer, so close the girl had to tilt her head back to look Gail in the eye, the girl’s heart began to hammer. As Gail slowly pressed her index finger against the girl’s chest, she had a horrible feeling that maybe she was wrong, maybe these two were witches, and for a moment wondered whether Gail would keep on pressing until her hand was in the girl’s ribcage, fingers locked tight around the girl’s beating heart.

Instead, all she felt was a light jab.

“It’s not ‘giving up,’ girl,” said Gail. “This isn’t escapism, and we’re not miserable. This is my version of a life well-lived, and of time well spent. Coming here was a choice. And guess what? We all have choices. If you choose to be miserable over a man who’s chosen to be happy with somebody else, that’s on you.”

“We’re happy,” added Reina, who had busied herself with rolling the next spliff. “It was a decision well made. The real question is, what will yours be?”

As the girl stepped back into the late afternoon sun, a slight breeze playing with her hair and the intermingled scents of lavender and cannabis following her into the forest, her step was a little lighter. She wasn’t over her heartbreak just yet. Certainly not. But somehow, she felt better off than before. After all, she had a choice.

She would always have a choice.