The ghost long passed beneath the hills,
the blood long soaked into the ground,
the knife long rusted down to dust,
yet still the bone sings on and on.
Too late, the song sings, too late:
it remembers nothing more than that,
that and a single name,
and endless notes of treachery.
Mari Ness is only slightly less obsessed with fairy tales and folklore than her work would suggest. Her poetry has previously appeared in Tor.com, Strange Horizons, Goblin Fruit, Mythic Delirium and previous issues of inkscrawl; her fiction has appeared in Tor.com, Clarkesworld, Daily Science Fiction, Apex, and multiple other venues. For more, you can check out her official blog at marikness.wordpress.com, or follow her on Twitter at mari_ness.