I summoned Layla to survive.
To survive the darkness. The night. The longest night that I‘ve ever had to survive.
A night that has not ended, yet. And while I am typing, new aspects of this night are taking over me. My head, the depth of my chest, and so I put them onto the list of things.
It‘s not a list of people, anymore. Although that was the first list that I wrote.
No, now there are places. And feelings.
Places just like the library, a cafe.
Feelings like being within a crowd and feeling perfectly save.
Those things are not back, yet.
„I wonder, how long we will have to live without all of this“, I said, throwing my pencil onto the notebook and picking up another piece of cake.
My notebook was really ugly. I did not like it at all, but when I had run out of paper, the only store still open was a grocery store with only a very small supply. So, I had to pour out my heart onto small pages of graph paper.
Meanwhile, I love this ugly, little thing more than anything.
Layla makes wonderful chocolate cake, but it is even more wonderful how she prefers to do this wearing almost nothing.
„I mean, how many years will pass until things can really happen again?“, I continued, deeply regretting my decision not to drink tonight. „And after all those years, will we even remember how things work?“ Oh god, how could I ever have walked out of the store without at least a little emergency supply of wine!
„We‘ve already been through that“, Layla would answer, but I sensed that she still understood how and why my head got stuck with those thoughts again.
As goos bumps became visible, Layla put her long skirt back on, and set down next to me.
„Sometimes, it‘s not the right time for certain things“, she would whisper, and something inside me cramped.
„We have the right to mourn, to rage“, she continued. „It is cruel. Suddenly, the world is not open anymore. Suddenly, we cannot choose our actions freely, anymore.“ She hesitated. „Sometimes, it‘s just time to survive.“
I never knew how to ask her about those shadows on her face, in her voice.
„The important thing is to never forget the things that could not have been done“, she continued. „Even though we endure, we survive, there still is the yearning for more, for the better things, the sweet sensation. The world cannot take that away from us.“
„It can“, I whispered.
„Yes, but you must never let it.“
„Layla“, I began, gathering all my courage. „When did you … survive?“
Layla giggled. „Many times, otherwise I would not be here, right?“ Then she became serious, shadowy again. „One time in 1621, all of 1625 until in 1628 things became sweet again, but then 1630 was a mess …“
„Wait, we are talking about a period of nine years that got really bad over and over again?“, I asked, and Layla giggled even more.
„Yes.“ More cake. Way mooore cake, for both of us. „But you know, I‘m still here. You still summoned me. I am still talking.“
I studied her face.
Her age was hard to tell.
I saw her right in front of me, but still could not make out the details.
Sometimes, she seemed to have something old, or better: something grown about her.
Then again, there was a smile and a giggle that seemed almost childish.
Maybe I summoned her wrong …
„What …“ I swallowed hard. „What happened?“
„Oh, what happened! The world happened!“ Layla took off her lace top and opened the window to stare into the night for a moment.
This conversation was really getting out of hand, but I was lost in listening to her. This was the first time that Layla told something that honest and detailed about her life.
“So many things have happened”, my witch went on. “I was in love, but then he died, and I was the last person that had seen him alive. When that incident was finally forgotten, I got maried, but none of our children ever survived their first night. Then there was a hard winter threatening to starv us all, followed by the disease that gave my town the rest.” Her voice sounded sweet, almost singin, as she told me thhis. “And suddenly, the state outside that I had seen so often was prepared for me. Until my special he saved me, asgainst all odds.”
„Who was he?“
Now, there was a silence that we had never experienced before. A silence that told more than words ever could. A silence that narrated the absence of life.
„Someone“, Layla whispered. „Someone, who asked a lot of me. Someone, who helped me survive. Someone, who was with me. Once. But not enough.“ The cool night floating in through the window made her shiver. „Anyway … Sometimes we do not live to the fullest, because we cannot. Sometimes, there is no chance to say goodbye. Sometimes, a wish, a deep desire was born just to contrast a horrible turn that the world has taken. And sometimes, it does not even matter. Sometimes, all that counts is that the dream was there.“
Looking at Layla, an understanding of her words slowly took over me.
Suddenly I thought about every single horrible event that had taken place in history, and I realized that each time there was a Layla and a me involved, trying to dream.
Wearing a corselet, and never being able to make a decision of completely on their own, before the birth of the first child probably ended a way too short journey anyway.
Or, looking out the window onto a dying city, and knowing that a lover, and a husband and also any perspective on finding love again have died within the fire that took their homes.
Or, wearing a fine dress, and handling a tea party, while swallowing up every musing or even emotion, out of fear to be accused of madness.
All those horrors had been lived. And sometimes, while taking a deep breath at night, when everyone else was asleep (or, meanwhile even dead), those dreams took over, and in their very own way, they were also lived.
„That‘s how we survive“, I whispered, and I felt that Layla had guessed my thoughts.
„That‘s right“, she answered, having also taken off her long skirt by now.
Maybe this night survival meant to love the part of us that we were yearning to show someone who might never ever get a chance to see it. But at least, it was there.
Mistress witch writes 