Submissions are open to one piece of fiction completed for coursework during the last calendar year. Submissions should not exceed 20 pages. Lily Kent wrote the 2nd place submission in the Fiction Category for the 2025 President’s Writing Awards.
About Lily
Lily Kent is a fiction writer from California whose stories explore themes of existentialism and connection, oftentimes with a speculative or historical twist. She is a two time recipient of the Boise State Presidents Writing Award for her work in fiction, and was recently published in an anthology of short stories and poems exploring feminine rage titled, The Tongue is Sharp. Outside of writing she enjoys forcing her music taste onto her friends, and looking through old photos.
Winning Manuscript – Feel My Heart
Every girl who stepped off the Pelican came with a casket. They were sent from France yearly under the sweltering July sun aboard a merchant ship aptly named for such a migration. It docked amidst the churning waters in the port of La Nouvelle-Orléans, the girls cloistered on the foredeck. They were greeted by the sounds of dock men and merchants alike bartering and arguing. They watched in a huddle of nerves and excitement as the port town revealed itself to them, clutching their casquettes close.
Among them Théa tilted her chin heavenward and dropped her eyelids. Her pinkish lips parted with a soft exhalation of warm breath that mingled with the stuffy humidity of La Louisiane. She felt her pale cheeks growing hot and her scalp becoming itchy under the restrictive bonnet that contained her golden hair.
“Are you well, Théa?” a soft voice inquired from behind. She looked over her shoulder at Anne whose brows were scrunched in concern. She could feel the heat pouring from Anne’s body in small currents, thick and troubled, congesting the space between them. Her own concoction of distress and worry.
Théa turned and set her trunk down on the deck, then pried Anne’s from her tight grip and did the same. She trailed her fingers delicately down Anne’s arms, lifted her hands, and pressed them against her heart while taking measured, even breaths.
“The sea troubles you,” Théa whispered. Anne closed her eyes and matched her breathing to Théa’s, settling into their routine.
“Non,” she shook her head to clear her thoughts and her French. “The distance troubles me. It has kept me up each night. The farther we get from home the farther peace seems to stray from my mind.”
“This is our new home,” Théa corrected. “Feel my heart, Anne.” The two stood quiet. Théa willed her heart to beat a steady, tranquil rhythm which Anne welcomed into her body through her hands. The air between them cooled and dissipated. Théa smiled. “Better?”
“Oui.” They retrieved their trunks but kept their hands clasped. They stayed like this as the group de-boarded, taking their first steps into their new world together. They stayed like this as they were ushered through town by their escort to the Ursuline Convent. They stayed like this still when townswomen shot them discontented looks and whispered unkindly to their companions about the arrival of the new batch. Their distrust rolled from them in waves and hit Théa mercilessly. She filled her own mind with happier thoughts to counteract the disorienting effect of the town’s malice.
Théa knew that they were not the first group of casket girls, as the settlers had labeled them, to receive such treatment. She knew that the sneers and scoffs were the extent of the kindness that most would afford them until they were acclimated. Rumors bled, dripped, and clung through each generation of girls sent on the Pelican, and none could do anything to disperse them.
The crimes were stacked against them. Their pale, European skin. Their coffin shaped trunks. The attic of the Convent where they slept. Vampyres. The accusation slipped from the lips of nearly every resident, even the most grounded among them.
The casket girls approached the Convent of St. Ursula, a white, two story colonial with a single red brick path that cut through hedges to the front door. There, Mother, as the girls who came before called her, stood poised and ready to receive her new shipment, hands clasped and hair pulled taut in a low, brown bun. She leveled each arrival as they stepped over the threshold with a cold, assessing stare, her wizened eyes examining what she had to work with.
Théa broke her hold on Anne and stepped forward when it was her turn. Her blue eyes locked on Mother’s deep brown. The air the woman emanated was frigid and Théa shivered as she broke her gaze and stepped inside, but not before an icy hand encircled her wrist and tugged her back.
She stumbled, but regained her footing in time for Mother to bring her face an inch from her own. Even her breath was cold against Théa’s cheeks. She stared hard, the skin around her eyes wrinkling in concentration before a rare smile spread across her lips.
She spoke in a low whisper meant only for Théa. “Witch!”
“Where are you from, Child?” Mother inquired in a stilted American accent. Théa could barely make out the remaining traces of French that held onto her words like a heavy mist, reluctant to abandon her and be forgotten.
“Toulouse,” she replied firmly. She stood in Mother’s bedroom after being summoned by one of the tutors. She had barely enough time to unpack her things and change into the gray, smock uniform before her presence was requested. She left the rest of the girls to finish settling into the attic and went to meet her fate who awaited her arrival uncharacteristically patiently.
Mother’s room was stark and simple with only a wooden armoire in a corner and a small bed with white sheets in the center. An orderly reflection of the woman’s mind. She stood at the end of the bed, a few feet from Théa.
“How did they find you?” she asked. Théa shook her head, confused. Mother flicked her hand towards the open door which instantly slammed shut, sealing their conversation. Théa’s eyes widened. She didn’t attempt to hide her shock. “You’re powerful my girl, they did not send you here by accident. They fear us, and send us here hoping the new world will stamp us out,” Mother pressed. When Théa remained silent, her jaw still open and her gaze locked on the bedroom door, Mother changed her tactic, “Is your lover from Toulouse as well?” This shocked Théa out of her reverie and Mother smiled knowingly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stuttered.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re powerful, yes, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. You show your emotions as freely as you feel those of others. You have a gift, but with it comes a responsibility to protect yourself.” Mother closed the distance between them and took Théa’s hands. Where Mother’s were rough and calloused from years of hard work, Théa’s were smooth and innocent, unweathered by the reality of her existence in this world. “We are not the only ones to have come here. We are rare and we are few, but we are here. You are safe within the Convent, but I can not protect you when the time comes to fulfill your duty.”
“I know my duty, Mother. I know we are here to take husbands. We are nothing more than exotic goods sent to satisfy men looking to establish their place in society. They are nothing without a family. That is what we are here for.” She delivered her speech with as much confidence as she could muster. It was the same one given to all of the girls when they were picked off the streets of their hometowns and promised a new life. The same one they were made to repeat while being helped into carriages, most of them for the first time in their lives, and sent off to the port. Mother sighed at hearing it for the thousandth time. A small sliver of sorrow leaked from her in a gust of warm air, betraying her empathy.
“Your purpose is yet more dangerous than the others. They are not special like us, they don’t have as much to hide.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“You have your existence to hide, little witch.” She became stern and tightened her grip.
“The blood that runs through our veins does not also run through theirs. You are all here to be married, yes, but a husband’s love only extends as far as you can take him in the eyes of society. Eyes that are already deeply offended by your existence and that will do anything to get rid of you. Americans are greedy creatures. The eligible women will not be happy when another round of bachelors falls to the whores sent from France.”
“I can protect myself, Mother. I will blend in like the rest of them.” Mother frowned.
“But you can not protect her.” Théa’s breath caught in her throat. “Temper your power Théa, learn your lessons, and forget Anne. It is the only way you both will survive this new world.” With that Mother released her grip and flicked her hand once more. This time the door swung open and Théa knew it was her que to leave.
The girls were forced to stop twice on their promenade through town the next day. It was standard to present the new flock into society as early as possible. It was Mother’s way of dispelling the rumours surrounding their seclusion. As soon as the sun rose the girls were primped and preened, dressed in identical muslin dresses and paraded around town.
The first interruption came in the form of a heckler, a man still drunk from his escapades the night before. He trailed them all the way from the Convent to the market near the port, shouting extremities and whistling when one of the girls paid him any attention. He followed them until the disorder of the market made him so disoriented he had to sit down. By the time he had regained his equilibrium the girls were passing the last rows of stands and heading towards one of La Nouvelle-Orléans many gardens, out of reach of the drunkard.
The second interruption came in the form of a Governor. As they strolled the paths of the garden in two neat, orderly rows, Théa couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming presence of so many watching eyes. They all belonged to men.
She was bombarded on all sides by varying emotions. Warm and soothing air from the direction of the sincere, prickly and disconcerting from the hungry, and an overbearing, suffocating stickiness.
The last sensation crawled down her throat with every inhale so violently she choked on a gag. Greed.
From beside her Anne commented on the beauty of the place. The lush green lawns bordered by well maintained flower filled hedges. The intermittent ponds with couples picnicking near their shores. The occasional appearance of a bird or squirrel scattering across a path or up a tree to safety.
Théa tried to take it all in for Anne’s sake, but her shoes were too tight and her dress too scratchy. Her bonnet became an incubator for the heat her body radiated. From the front of the line Mother paused and turned to address the group in full.
“There is a very special man approaching,” she warned them. Whispers and excitement fluttered through the group. Dread pooled in Théa’s stomach. “Let this be your first lesson in etiquette, compose yourselves,” she stared pointedly at Théa who stood in a pool of her own warmth.
“I suppose this is what it will be like,” Anne wondered. She wordlessly slipped her hand into one of Théa’s and squeezed. The motion had an immediate effect and Théa suddenly felt degrees cooler than a moment before.
Soon enough the group came upon a tall, pale man with a white powdered wig and black waistcoat. He held a black cane to match and tilted his head in greeting to Mother who curtsied. All the girls followed suit but for Théa who narrowed her eyes at him. He narrowed his back and she was blasted by a front of piercing cold. She held back a gasp and pressed her lips into a thin line. The man smirked.
“Ladies, may I introduce you to the Governor of our lovely Louisiane, Jean Baptiste Bienville.” Mother held out her hand to the Governor who brought it to his lips. Her cheeks pinkened either from his flirtations or the heat, or a combination of both.
“Always a wonderful thing to see so many fine, young ladies making their way to the new world,” he proclaimed cheerily, but Théa could hear the harsh practiced cadence of a speech that was clearly rehearsed. “And all for our benefit! How did we become so lucky?” He referred to the eligible men striving to make their way in this world, some of whom still circled the garden like vultures.
“My newest group is sure to be as fine as the last Governor,” Mother assured him. He scanned the aforementioned group in front of him, drinking them all in. He paused on Anne and Théa bristled before he flicked his eyes to hers next. Again she was hit with his frigid air and she shivered.
“Yes,” his gaze never left hers, “a fine group indeed.”
Théa trailed a finger languidly down Anne’s arm. They lay on their sides facing each other in their respective beds. They had claimed the two cots in the far corner of the attic, and when no one was looking, had pushed them together until they were only inches apart.
Their feet ached from their hours of promenading that day and Anne was forming a headache from all the reading Mother had made them do to practice their English. The moon streamed in from the uncurtained window above Anne’s bed, illuminating her milky skin and bathing her in an angelic glow. She sighed.
“This is not like what I thought it would be,” she admitted to Théa and the sleeping forms of the other girls.
“What did you think?” Théa wondered, now tracing light circles over Anne’s shoulder and collarbone.
“I thought that I wanted to be a wife,” she admitted and Théa paused her tracing.
“And now you don’t?”
“Not to any man this world could offer me,” she whispered shyly. No matter how many soft touches and stolen kisses the two shared, Anne could never quit her nervousness at confronting their situation. She rolled onto her back and laughed to dispel her nerves. Her chest rose and fell in a way that reminded Théa of all the other times it had done the same. All the other sounds she could make lying on her back. She blushed at the memories and her own breathing quickened.
“We have time,” Théa interrupted her laughter and Anne rolled back to face her. Her hazel eyes were glassy with tears and her smile was mournful.
“Will it be enough?”
“It never will.” Théa reached to take her hand and felt her speeding pulse. She breathed evenly and Anne followed suit.
“Sometimes I don’t think we were meant to have any time at all,” Anne admitted as Théa continued to focus on slowing her pulse. “What luck that we were put into the same cabin, on the same ship, at the same time?”
“If it was luck then it was meant to be.” They locked eyes and the air between them grew charged.
“Then is it only luck holding us together?”
“I won’t believe that.”
“I believe that all luck comes to an end.” Anne dropped her gaze.
“Then it is not luck.”
“How can you be sure?” Anne’s fear bled into her desire, giving the already electric air between them a storm-like humidity. Théa sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, gesturing for Anne to do the same. She placed Anne’s hand over her own heart like she had done so many times before and leaned her forehead against hers.
“You know my heart, Anne,” she whispered. Her breath coasted across Anne’s features whose cheeks flushed.
“Oui,” she nodded.
“And is it not yours?” Théa used her free hand to playfully pull strands of Anne’s hair free from her braid. Tendril by tendril she unraveled Anne’s composure until her face was framed by a halo of brown curls and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Oui.”
Théa returned the smile before bringing her lips to Anne’s.
The next few weeks were filled with mornings of promenading and social outings accompanied by lessons to further acclimate the girls into a society determined to reject them. The afternoons were reserved for callers who had yet to make an appearance, but whom Mother was certain would come around. They always did.
Théa and Anne’s nights consisted of delicate touches, light laughter, and gentle kisses that lasted until the white light of the moon turned gold with the rising of the sun. Théa used this time also to practice what Mother had told her to do, tempering her magic. Instead of giving in to the air between her and Anne she practiced rejecting it. She let Anne’s emotions roll over and off of her skin, focusing instead on the concrete physicality of their interactions.
It was a day like any other when the letter arrived. A short and polished domestic delivered it personally to the door of the Convent where Mother received it gladly. She recognized the wax stamp immediately and called for the girls to assemble in the entrance hall.
They stood in a neat line, Théa and Anne close together with their pinkies intertwined.
“Our first caller,” Mother announced, waving the parchment in the air. The girls tittered and shifted their weight, nervous but curious. “And it’s from a very special man,” she hinted and cracked open the seal. Théa’s stomach dropped.
The girls watched dutifully as Mother carefully scanned the contents of the letter. She mouthed the words breathily to herself and nodded at appropriate intervals. When she reached the end her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. The girls increased their tittering.
“It’s a marriage offer,” Mother sounded astonished. She knew that eventually the offers would arrive, but she always prepared for them to be later rather than sooner. “It’s an offer from the Governor.”
Théa felt the world drop out from under her. She didn’t have to guess at who the offer was for. She shivered as she recalled how his gaze felt on her skin all those weeks ago in the park. She remembered his smirk and the wicked gleam in his eyes. She fully believed that if he could’ve claimed her in that moment he would’ve. But alas he had come to claim her now.
“He’s requesting retrieval at our earliest convenience,” Mother continued, not recognizing that she had lost all of the girl’s attention at this point as their tittering had flourished into full blown gossiping.
Théa grabbed Anne’s hand fully and squeezed. She wouldn’t say goodbye yet. She would hold on for as long as she could. She would hold on until the Governor himself ripped them apart and took Théa away. But for now she was not the Governor’s, she was Anne’s. She took a small step forward and opened her mouth to show her acknowledgement of the offer, but Mother continued.
“Anne darling,” Mother lowered the letter and rested her prideful gaze on Anne who stiffened. The gossiping halted. All eyes turned to her, Théa’s included, but Anne stared straight ahead at Mother. “Pack your things dear.”
When Théa entered the attic Anne was already packing. Her hair fell in dark waves down her back which faced Théa as she approached.
“Let me help,” she offered, and took up a position next to Anne who wordlessly continued folding her garments and laying them on the bed. Théa picked up a pale pink petticoat and followed suit. Anne’s eyes flicked to Théa’s, observing her progress, yet she remained silent.
They continued in this manner until there were no clothes left to fold and only words to be said.
“He has a large estate,” Théa started in an attempt at joviality which fell flat and died in the silence between them. She cleared her throat. “He has gardens. You could read anywhere you want–”
“You said we had time,” Anne interrupted forcefully. Théa involuntarily flinched at the sudden outburst and her eyebrows scrunched in concern. Anne breathed hard through her nose, pinning Théa with an accusatory, yet pleading stare. Théa regained her composure and reached for Anne who withdrew and resumed packing her trunk.
Tears welled in Théa’s eyes. “I am not the one who took it away,” she defended almost inaudibly. Anne continued her work, unable to meet her eyes.
“But you did not stop it.” She choked on the statement and now both girls were holding back tears that would portray everything, yet accomplish nothing. Théa grabbed Anne’s shoulders, interrupting her progress, and pulled her into a tight embrace. Anne was stiff at first, but little by little the tension bled from her body and she melted into Théa who placed her chin on Anne’s forehead.
“I’m sorry.” She stroked Anne’s hair whose hands fumbled for Théa’s waist. She pushed her back enough for the two to look in each other’s eyes. There they saw everything.
“I suppose our luck has ended,” Anne laughed tearfully. Théa could do nothing but shake her head, mute. When she didn’t respond Anne smiled mournfully and returned to packing her things. She loaded her trunk and slid it easily off the bed. Slipping past Théa’s frozen form she quietly left the room.
“I will not believe that,” Théa whispered to the empty attic.
“Do not let him take her,” Théa demanded while storming into Mother’s room, a hurricane of sorrow and furry. Mother stood in a corner staring at the pages of an old, leather notebook, cracked with age. She looked up amuseduly but her face darkened when she saw Théa’s expression.
“Let him?” she laughed. “He paid, child. She is his.” The temperature in the room lowered with each step she took towards Théa.
“Refuse him,” she suggested, which accomplished another laugh from the woman.
“And how do you suggest I keep this Convent running if I turn down offers like his?” She snapped her notebook shut and flicked the door closed like she had done on the day of Théa’s arrival. When Théa remained silent, her hands and teeth clenched, Mother continued. “You forget who you are.”
“No,” she snapped and registered what looked like shock on Mother’s face. “You have told me who I am. Ever since I arrived you have told me to protect myself. To keep my head down.” It was her turn to advance until she was only inches from Mother who exuded her shock and annoyance in frigid, piercing waves. Théa took it all in, feeling the emotions pulse and mingle with her own until she practically crackled with energy. “But on this I will not.”
Mother narrowed her eyes at her charge and ran her gaze along Théa’s body. She paused her perusal on the girl’s hair which hung in waves past her shoulders. Except now the ends were starting to float and the air around Théa seemed to flicker. The harder Mother looked the more unstable it seemed and the determination and righteousness in Théa’s eyes betrayed her awareness of the situation.
Mother smiled.
“Little witch, you still surprise me.”
“Let me protect her,” Théa pleaded.
“You are not protecting her, you’re protecting your heart,” she countered. Théa’s hair continued to rise around her as water welled in her eyes. The air that had been still began to stir around them. “This is out of our hands,” Mother had to raise her voice as the wind picked up. “You need to let her go.” Her expression turned from stern to worried in a matter of seconds as understanding registered on Théa’s face and her knees trembled under the force of her power. She opened her mouth to argue, but not before her legs buckled beneath her. Mother caught her at the elbows and lowered them both to kneeling. Théa’s confidence morphed into fear as her body began to shake. “Théa child listen to me. We can do no more for Anne, the situation is out of our hands, but the future is not.”
Mother’s ears popped as all of the air was sucked out of the room with a vicious crack. Théa crumpled into her arms in an unanimated heap. Mother leaned against the foot of the bed and scooped her spent form into her arms to rock back and forth. She wiped Théa’s hair from her forehead which was slick with sweat and trilled an old French lullaby into her ear.
Mother couldn’t have known, but it was the same tune Théa had hummed to Anne on restless nights when anxiety kept her up. Théa abandoned her fortitude and wept.
Mother continued to rock her and sing until her tears were spent, and she could no longer convince herself that there was a way out of this.
“There are others like us,” Mother whispered, still stroking her hair and humming soothingly. “I told you that we are few, but we are here. And when the next witch crosses the ocean I want to protect her in the way I told you to protect yourself.” Théa considered this plan, considered Anne, and finally considered herself. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest.
She took a deep breath.
“I want to be here too,” she decided. Mother grinned and Théa noticed a sheen in her own eyes accompanied by a nearly imperceptible, comforting heat radiating from her form.
“I was hoping you would say that.” She blinked and the phantom tears vanished almost immediately. “The men can do with one less prospect this season, I think.” They both laughed before turning serious once more.
“And Anne?” Mother sighed and placed a warm hand on Théa’s knee, shaking her head and effectively extinguishing the girl’s last glimmer of hope. Théa swallowed. “Well, where do we start?”
Bienville’s domestics retrieved Anne from the Convent early the following morning. She slipped away without waking Théa which inadvertently subjected Mother to another round of her incredulity. Her outburst followed the same path it had taken the previous day and Mother decided while consoling her that it was time they both took her magic seriously.
While their magic manifested in dramatically different forms they each had much to learn from the other. It also gave Théa something to occupy her mind with other than memories of Anne. They still creeped in, but she was able to focus on the task at hand.
Once every girl barring Théa was spoken for, her and Mother set their plan into action. While the Pelican continued to deliver its yearly batch of French girls, the reputation of La Nouvelle-Orléans flourished into a cultural and societal hotspot. Within the decade the Convent started putting out calls for students, specifically young women.
Though many parents were initially reluctant to board their daughters in a place clouded so thick with rumours, the influence of certain highly ranked individuals was enough to convince them of the Convent’s merits.
The first girl arrived on a bright summer’s day. Her young face was rosy and cherubic and she clung tightly to her mother who guided her through the doors. Théa rushed to the entry hall with her skirts held in her hands and her braid trailing behind her. The girl was early and her and Mother were hardly prepared to receive her. Beds still had to be made and uniforms cleaned. Teaching plans had yet to be finalized and practice books sat waiting to be retrieved at the paper shop.
She readied herself to explain the state of their preparedness, but swallowed her speech when she saw the woman standing before her.
Her wild brown curls were contained in a neat bun and her hazel eyes shone with latent longing. Instantly Théa was wrapped in a familiar electricity that made her skin tingle. Goosebumps formed along her exposed forearms and she folded her hands in front of her politely.
“Anne,” she spoke her name quietly as if it would add to the weight of their past which already sat heavy on her heart.
“Mrs. Bienville,” Anne corrected playfully. Her daughter stared suspiciously at Théa who felt the girl’s nervousness in slow, lapping waves not unsimilar to her mother’s old anxiety. She approached the pair and kneeled down to the girls level. When they locked eyes she was hit with a quick,sharp sting of cold that melted away as quickly as it had appeared.
“And who is this?” she smiled gently.
“Lorraine.” Théa could hear the pride in her voice.
“Well Lorraine, we’re going to take very good care of you.” Lorraine tucked herself behind Anne’s skirts, but not before Théa recognized a spark of curiosity in her hazel eyes. Théa stood and her breath left her lungs when Anne reached for her hand. Five soft fingers wrapped delicately around Théa’s own.
“Can I come visit her?” Anne wondered. Théa’s lips parted softly. All she could do was nod. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt her learning?” Anne tilted her head as if Théa’s nod was not enough confirmation of the true question at hand.
“Yes,” Théa made her voice firm. “You won’t be interrupting.” Anne squeezed her hand tighter around Théa’s. “We’ll have time.” Anne’s lips split into a wide grin but her attention was pulled away when Lorraine tugged on her hand.
Théa stepped away from the two to give them privacy and to regain control over her breathing. It was at that moment that Mother entered the room. Her eyes assessing as always and her graying hair pulled taught at the nape of her neck.
She sniffed the air and her eyes flew to Lorraine who was now embraced in a tight hug with Anne who cooed words of assurance into her daughter’s ear. Mother narrowed her gaze and turned to Théa, a familiar smile spreading across her face. Théa took a deep breath and nodded knowingly. Witch.