A Small Comic About Palestine I Created To Appeal To More Passive Family And Friends

A small comic about Palestine I created to appeal to more passive family and friends

Anyways if you have the money I urge you to donate to Ibraheem Hadi, a Palestinian who contacted me and whom I promised to highlight in relation to this comic:

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me and my family to evacuate from Gaza, organized by Devlin Downs

Title: "Urgent Relief: Support Ibrahim's Family in Gaza Amidst Devastation" … Devlin Downs needs your support for Help me and my family to

Otherwise there is always a need for eSims to keep Gazans connected

I wish this was my job.

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

Hi if you ever find yourself in a relationship saying anything along the lines of "well I can't leave cause I would never be able to find something better than this because I'm trans/fat/aging/antisocial/unlucky" I beg of you to run. Please. You can find and build better but in order to do that you have to take the first step out the door. You do not have to endure abuse, mistreatment, or just plain incompatibility for the sake of a fraction of happiness. You don't.