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Quote by George Peros

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URBANIMALITY: Fragments

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George Peros

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“Every witch I’ve ever met says I’m too powerful, I’m too much, I’m not safe,” I say. “Not safe to be anyone’s friend, to study with anyone, to be trusted.” To be loved by anyone, I add silently, kicking my Doc Martens against the wall of the canal. When I’ve got control of my grief, soaring through my chest like a bird with feathers made of sorrow, I go on. “Maybe if I could actually shift it would be different, but my power doesn’t make me feel safer,” I admit, not letting my voice rise above a whisper, too ashamed to speak loudly. “Mostly, I just feel … fucking lonely.” Bastian doesn’t say anything for a while. I wonder if I spoke too quietly for him to hear. A goose flaps its wings and slides into the water, gently paddling upstream. Then he speaks. “We could study together,” he says. He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but a statement. It’s funny, because in it I hear something different. You don’t have to be alone is what I hear. I’ve not felt that in a while now, like someone believes I’m safe to be around. That someone wants my company. Bastian might treat witchcraft differently to any witch I’ve ever met, but he’s here and he’s not afraid of me. “Yeah, okay,” I say.”

LonelinessLgbtqia
Book:Witchlore
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“Mariez-vous, mon ami, vous ne savez pas ce que c’est que de vivre seul, à mon âge. La solitude, aujourd’hui, m’emplit d’une angoisse horrible : la solitude dans le logis, auprès du feu, le soir. Il me semble alors que je suis seul sur la terre, affreusement seul, mais entouré de dangers vagues, de choses inconnues et terribles ; et la cloison qui me sépare de mon voisin que je ne connais pas, m’éloigne de lui autant que des étoiles aperçues par ma fenêtre. Une sorte de fièvre m’envahit, une fièvre de douleur et de crainte, et le silence des murs m’épouvante. Il est si profond et si triste, le silence de la chambre où l’on vit seul. Ce n’est pas seulement un silence autour du corps, mais un silence autour de l’âme, et, quand un meuble craque, on tressaille jusqu’au cœur, car aucun bruit n’est attendu dans ce morne logis.”

Loneliness
Book:Bel-Ami
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“A muffled voice startled them both. "When are you going to kiss her?" They pulled away. In the ballroom windows, noses and hands pressed against the glass, were the girls. They stood among the prickly rosebushes, beaming wicked little grins. Delphinium and Eve whispered and giggled to each other; Bramble wore a magnificent grin on her face and a spark of light in her yellow-green eyes. Another figure stood among them. This one had his arms folded across his chest, stiff and firm and formal... ...Yet he did not look displeased.”

Romance
Book:Entwined
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“Powder Burns by Stewart Stafford A lone boy prowls a murky sandbar, The cataract sky, judgemental kin, A wrecking-ball life's flattened vista— Any hopeful resolution growing thin. Alley dice swallowed all naïveté, Fixed or cursed, he remained unsure, Surreptitious bone-white erotic charge, Legacy besmirched by fame impure. A neon safari hunt of the vanished, Luring victims to his flytrap home, Murderous brief interval to loneliness, A purring predator refusing to atone. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

DarkCrimeLonelinessHorrorMurderNoirTrue CrimeSerial KillerPsychological ThrillerDennis Nilsen
Author:Stewart Stafford
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