I Raf You Big Sister Is A Witch | 2024-2026 |

The house had no number. People in town referred to it simply as the crooked house, though no one went near it unless they were looking for something they had lost. Inside, the floorboards remembered every footstep. On the mantel lay jars of things she called "memories in waiting": a button from a coat long eaten by moths, a child's laughter bottled like citrus peel, a scrap of a letter that had never been mailed. She stored weather there too—wind folded into an envelope, thunder like an old coin. None of these jars were labeled the way a chemist labels his vials; the labels were in ink and her hand, and ink changes names at night.

Then the wolves came.

I closed my notebook then, the chronicle heavy with names and debts and small, resounding truths. If you read it, take this away: be careful what you bargain for, and be more careful about the promises you make. Keep a ledger of your own—one that records the kindnesses you give, so you can face them when they come due. i raf you big sister is a witch

"Where will you go?" I asked.

"Transparency is for windows," my sister answered. "You want control." The house had no number

The request should have been a simple one: find the lost music, return it. But my sister counted the cost on the backs of her fingers like a debt collector. On the mantel lay jars of things she