Being alive is a horror, sometimes.

A hot chocolate for me.
Tea for my witch.
„Being alive is a really bad idea.“

We are sitting on cushions between boxes and furniture to be put into place, while only the bright light on the ceiling is available.
„But people keep doing so“, my witch answers.
„Because sometimes it feels really good.“
I don‘t have to mention that my hot chocolate was spiced up with two shots of espresso and one shot of rum, right?
„Sometimes“, Layla agrees. „When it‘s not all about spreading your legs, and being thankful for a horrible lot of pain.“
Her understanding of things that I could not put into words surprises me always again.

„I find all kinds of fluids terrifying“, I say, while being unable to take another sip that I am yearning for. „Why do I have to swallow my hot chocolate to enjoy it?“
„Because spilling it out afterwards is more disgusting.“
My hands wander to the metal box the tea had been in, and I wonder if I should clean it anytime soon.
„We keep struggling to keep ourselves together, while the whole universe is stuck on a one-way-trip to eventually being blown with the wind, and no one will be left to remember. We‘re condemned to be bound to a shell that is threatened to break everyday. Cancer could already be everywhere, and we would not know. And to keep this happening to new people all over again, we are asked to spread our legs and be ripped apart, all in the hope the thing inside us did not grow wrongly.“
A very big gulp of rum-espresso-hot-chocolate was needed right there.

„Then why didn‘t you give up yet?“, my witch asks.
Why didn‘t I? Really good question.
Because, sometimes it felt great.

„Sometimes, I use this mouth neither to swallow, nor to spill.“
„But to kiss?“
„Sometimes, my body doesn‘t ache or feel wrong.“
„But is being touched, and caressed, and loved?“
„Sometimes, I‘m not suffocating.“
„But breathing, laughing?“

I looked in Layla‘s understanding eyes, and something inside of me felt warm.
„Between blood and pain and disease and death, there have always been these other things“, my witch says. „These things with a sparkle. If you‘re lucky, for a moment these other things outweigh the first ones. Humans have always been searching for ways to make that easier, and not just surrender to their bodies.“
My little potion was already empty and it made me sad.
„Yes, but right now, one virus has stopped reality, and we are forced to lock ourselves away at home and wait for a miracle while already over a million people have died.“
Layla tossed a bag of cookies at me. „I didn‘t say you were perfect, yet. Just a little better in dealing with the very historical horror of living inside this body.“

My witching autumn desk

This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…

Why do we stop doing things?

“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…

When we fall …

Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…

Published by Mistress Witch writes

About the historical horror of living. Drafting my witching novel. Chasing dark, forgotten and haunted tales.

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