Author Archives: Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.] Carolyn put her arm around Hecate’s shoulders as they slipped out of the Shakespeare garden and moved around the hedgerows toward the path down the hill to where the barrow stood. Torches … Continue reading →

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.] “Ten thousand miles.” Hecate blinked, shaking herself. She stared at Carolyn, who grinned at her from the other side of the flower bed. “Huh?” “You were ten thousand miles away just now,” … Continue reading →

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]                 Carolyn smiled weakly and squeezed her hand.  “How can you be so sure, though?  What if something happens to all of us?”                 “There is nothing that is going to be … Continue reading →

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.] “Neither do I,” Carolyn said.  Hecate glanced up at her again and the other woman smiled.  “Something tells me that love’s pretty complicated.” Hecate choked on a laugh, feeling tears start to … Continue reading →

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.] “Something bothering you?” Carolyn asked after a few minutes. Hecate glanced up to see the other woman watching her, her brow furrowed slightly. “That’s a complicated question,” Hecate said softly, then smiled … Continue reading →

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.] She walked across the cracked concrete beyond the bridge, past the archway sculpture that somehow still stood, if a little off-kilter, in the center of what used to be a plaza at … Continue reading →