Rose Winters
The Infant Key to a Nightmare's End
Sleeping beauty? Nah. I’m the nightmare’s end.
You probably know me as the baby from the bowl. Charming, right? I don’t remember much—just cold, chants, and my dad’s arms pulling me into the light. I guess I carry something big inside me, something that makes monsters want me and mothers cry over me. I don’t talk. I don’t need to. You already know my name. That’s enough.
What I'm Into: swaddles that survive hell, ritual bowls I’d rather forget, a father’s heartbeat, fungal forests at midnight, being more than a vessel
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