Letter To Leonor: A Narrative Analysis

So I sit here, in the rain. I think of the letter from Leonora that I did not get to finish reading. I think of the basket of mutant birds that will not be cooked up for super. I think of Luther and his kind smile. I think of the scarf, which is torn, but wrapped around my torso beneath my clothing, to keep it hidden from the authorities. I think of the old merchant woman, and wonder what kind of horrors she saw in her life. And then I wonder what will become of me.

What will they do to us? Kill us? Force us to perform party tricks for them? Will they treat us like people? Or just like circus beasts?

I hear the soldiers laughing, and catch a part of their conversation: “Who cares? I mean they’re just witches right?” The soldiers