Confessions of a Teenage Witch

Photo by Halanna Halila on Unsplash

itch!” Justin hissed at me. He intended it as an insult, a way to malign me in a Bible-thumping middle school in which my witchery would be a social death sentence.

It worked, but I also realized something as I glared at him across the lunchroom table.

I was a witch.

For my entire childhood, churchgoing children pitted their religion, however insincerely…



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Rachel Wayne

Artist/anthropologist/aerialist writing about art, media, culture, health, science, enterprise, and where they all meet. Join my list: