In workshop the other night, someone mentioned dedicating my story to Sylvia Plath’s "The Mirror" which I realized that I had read a while back in Intro to Lit.
I didn’t quite remember it, just the feeling of it, and immediately was horrified to think that this piece had stuck in my brain and it was Ms. Plath, not myself, who had been writing my story.
Since checking it out, while the thought might have been there, the stories go off in two directions. I breathed a sigh of relief, but still, in the Catholic Central of my brain, there is some rumbling.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology