The Thread Eater
written by: Christina Stewart
Frau Perchta comes when the songs have thinned,
when pine needles rot in the carpet’s weave,
when laughter sharpens into the hollow clink
of spoons scraping empty plates, and I remember
all the false “Merry Christmas” I ever whispered.
She steps through the doorway,
as quiet as a breath held too long,
her fingers smelling of wool, prayer, and the cold
that slips through windowpanes at midnight.
She touches my chest,
listens for the lie still pulsing,
threads of it tangled in my ribs,
blackened, humming with secrets I cannot speak.
Outside, the world gleams
with that cruel December light,
the kind that drags beauty across the snow
and leaves decay glinting beneath it.
Perchta hums the names
of everyone who pretended joy,
her voice a needle sewing through the dark,
stitching snow to silence,
stitching me to memory,
to the ache of surviving the season
without ever being forgiven.
When she opens me,
there is no blood, only thread,
knotted, tangled,
the colour of forgiveness you never asked for,
and I feel the hollow of absence
stretch beneath my skin,
a winter wind singing through my bones.
By morning,
the house will shine with the falseness of peace,
and I will wake
lighter, emptier,
a gift she has already taken,
and still I will whisper,
still I will hear her hum,
threading the dark into me,
into the world.
- The Thread Eater - December 2, 2025
- The Weight of Choice - October 2, 2025
- The Limitless Heart - May 30, 2025
