treerot:

I want to be a mystery. I want to be a folktale. A local legend. I want to be the wrinkled hunched over old crone that lives deep in the woods where there are no roads. The children in the town nearby tell stories of the old witchwoman who only visits twice a year to sell her herbs and whisper curses at strangers. Local stray cats follow me around and crows won’t stop cawing when I’m near.