No one could forget the day she first came to the church, some twenty years ago. Raven hair cascaded down her thick, black dress. She had sickeningly pale skin, and the deepest, darkest eyes that refused to let anyone leave their sight. She had this presence too, an aura surrounding her that, for whatever reason, disturbed people; it was as if she’d damned everyone in the room, what with her sneers and condescending glares. She was quiet too, no matter how many people tried to talk with her. But she never did anyone any harm. And as such, as the days went on, the congregation left her to her strange ways.
Robin Goodfellow first became interested in writing when she was three, scribbling all over her parents' walls and imagining herself in old fairytales while walking in her father's garden. Since then, she has published in journals such as Faith, Hope, and Fiction, the Haiku Journal, and Nature Writing, as well as Black Poppy Review and the Danse Macabre. She is now a proud blogger for Hollies, Health and Happiness, as well as the founding editor to the Rosette Maleficarum.