Let me warn you about those twins…

In winter, Alie sits by the fire craddling a bottle of her favorite hooch. In summer she carries it out on the lawn sleeps under a bush when the last drop is gone.

Laurie goes to bed with men like most folk go to church, expecting invisible gods to make their presence known. After the service, she traces patterns on the sheets – gingerly touching their whiteness as one puts a finger to reflections in a pool.

Alie is so wild she’ll never let you see her eyes and so suddenly Laurie is – poof – not there anymore! Alone each is like a deer in the woods or a frigtened hare, but gentlemen beware, should these twins ever join forces, those highland witches three will seem like maiden aunts at tea



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