“The River Wants to Borrow Your Grief (Denied)”
The river tried to sell us mercy.
It smelled like rot dressed as rosemary and sounded like a lullaby sung by a hole in the world.
Trixie’s breath went thin. Nolan tightened his grip. Harrow watched the water the way a hawk watches a snake and Bellamy kept shifting his weight because even his boots knew the pier wasn’t trustworthy.
I hate rivers.
Not because they are water. Because they remember.
The memory put on its little puppet show: a too?young Bell offering pain like a tithe, with a lantern for an altar and a palm for a chalice. Take my fear. Take my grief. Take the night I learned to read. As if pain is an infection you drain with a knife and not the spine your life stands up on.
The water glowed. The dock preened. The world leaned in, hungry.
And my witch—my stubborn, luminous, exhausted witch—almost leaned back.
I sank my claws into her coat and purred an ugly note meant to make the universe gag.
“Do not give away what hurts,” I told her, directly into the place beneath her ear that holds truth. “Do not hand your enemies your sharp edges and then call it healing.”
She listened.
She set the Catch.
She broke the pretty syllable.
The river flinched.
Good.
Then it invited us to admire the price tag a second time. Second Bargain—the phrase skittered over the boards like a spider wearing a priest’s collar. The Hollow King’s voice curled up through the slats: Come. See what she offered next. I do not like when void-kings use poetry. It gives them ideas.
The river thinks it can be a therapist: Let me hold what you cannot. I have never wanted to bite water more.
Trixie shook with that old, familiar yearning—to be lighter. To be relieved. To let the softest lie pick up the weight and carry it somewhere she doesn’t have to look at.
I curled tighter against her neck and vibrated No into her bones.
Nolan did what Nolan does best: he stood between the invitation and the person who could be hurt by it. He gave the lie nowhere to land. I am starting to approve of him in ways that alarm me.
Harrow said the memory was about belief. She’s right. Belief is a leash if you hand it to the wrong thing. The river wants your leash. The King wants your clasp.
I want their teeth.
Here is the truth no one wants to say out loud: forgetting hurts more, later. It hollows you out. It makes space inside for things that want to wear you.
We keep our pain.
We keep our joy.
We keep our names, our nights, our embarrassments, our how?it?hurt and how?we?healed and how?we?didn’t.
We are not a pantry for a starving wound.
When the river glowed again (green, deceitful, eager), I could feel the next trick arranging itself: the bargain that made two keys necessary. I do not know the shape yet, but I smell the intention: make a door that opens only when two people say yes. Manipulate love into a lever. Teach the world to demand witnesses for surrender.
Let it try.
We’ll teach it what refusal sounds like in harmony.
Trixie’s pulse is steadier now. Nolan’s shadow sits tight against his feet like it belongs there (because it does). My claws are still out. They can stay out.
We go again. We will knock and leave against every pretty syllable this city throws at us. We will be rude to history until it learns manners.
And if the river wants to bargain?
It can bargain with my teeth.
Dixie Guide #4
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“How to Survive Memory?Bargains Without Giving Away Your Soul (or Your Witch’s)”
by Dixie Bell, Familiar, Cat, Archivist of Claw Marks
Audience: Witches, stubborn mundane accidentally flagged as “keys,” Keepers with insomnia, and any building that insists on having opinions.
1) Recognize the Pitch
Memory?bargains don’t say “make a deal.” They purr:
- “Let me hold what you cannot.”
- “Give me the pain; keep the joy.”
- “Offer what hurts, and I’ll make you clean.”
Translation: Give me your edges so I can hollow you properly.
Action: Hiss. Literally or metaphorically.
2) Spot the First Syllable
All bargains begin with a small permission—the barely?there ah— of I give…, I let…, I will…
This is the hinge. Break it, and the whole door forgets how to swing.
Do: Set a Memory Catch on the syllable (the Premise Clip). Don’t: Let the sentence finish. If it completes, you’re negotiating from inside the cage.
3) Make It Ugly
Do not perform. Do not harmonize. Do not be pretty.
Use the human, crooked, three?beat:
- Breath. Pulse. Us. Add mundane anchors: gearshift, grocery list, rent due on the 1st, the smell of old pennies. Door?gods gag on boring.
Rule: If your rhythm sounds respectable, you have already lost.
4) Keep What’s Yours
Memory?bargains target:
- Names (yours first)
- Firsts (read, kiss, loss)
- Fears you think you’re done with
Policy: We do not donate spine. If it “hurts less” afterward, check for holes.
5) Pair Up or Don’t Go
Two stubborn people are harder to hollow. One purr?engine (me) is mandatory.
Equipment:
- Tri?copper rings (palm, sternum, throat)
- Shadow stitch (seam?to?floor; reminder, not leash)
- Shared stabilizer token (wear it; don’t argue)
Formation: Witch + Idiot (affectionate) + Cat (terrifying).
6) Vent the Pressure Properly
If you forget the Vent, the story bleeds through you.
Bleed it into harmless scraps:
- a scuffed step
- a smudged chalk line
- a sigh that never lands
Small misremembering's keep big truths intact.
7) Do Not Make the Pretty Trade
If a memory offers to take:
- grief
- fear
- the worst night of your life
Reframe: These are archives, not toxins. You can’t lock them out and stay you.
Mantra: I keep what is mine.
8) Interrupt “Salvation”
When the memory shows relief as a moral?
Response sequence:
- Clip the premise.
- Loop the permission.
- Lay the ugly rhythm.
- Knock. Leave.
Repeat until the wound learns hesitation.
9) If You Slip
It happens. I am not mad. I am disappointed (and biting).
Recovery:
- Say your name three times (out loud).
- Name three mundane facts (you hate celery, the rent, that one neighbor’s wind chimes).
- Hold onto someone who says, “We’re leaving,” and believe them.
Then eat something. Memory work burns more calories than heroism.
10) Red Flags That Mean “Run”
- Water that glows any color not sanctioned by weather
- Doors that breathe inward
- Voices that know your grandmother’s lullaby
- Offers that start with “I’ll make it easier.”
Procedure: Hiss. Knock. Leave. File a complaint with me.
11) Grimm?Specific Clause
If a Councilor approaches you with a shiny knife and “for the city” eyes:
Action Items:
- Disarm with prejudice.
- Alert Harrow.
- Place Councilor in time?out.
- Groom claws while they reflect on their life choices.
12) Final Doctrine
We do not trade pieces of ourselves to make holes less hungry.
We teach hunger to hesitate. We guard each other through the pause.
If the river insists?
I will gladly bite the tide.
Signed, Dixie Bell, Patron Saint of Productive Terror, Keeper of Ugly Rhythms, and your most competent coworker.