We are drowning again.
Maybe, this is just what witches do.
It‘s 9 AM and I have to get up, while my witch is asleep, curled up in a short night dress on my arm chair by the window. Lucky witch.
And suddenly, it‘s far into the afternoon, and I wonder how time can fly by so fast while all I tried so far was to get a coffee and maybe even eat something.
I also wonder, how it is already getting dark.
It is already getting dark, and I have not anything at all, and as I answer a phone call and tell someone for two very long minutes that existing has become pointless, I hear a little confusion in the voice on the other end, maybe even a bit of fear, and there I know that I have said too much again, and I swallow those thoughts, to make the pressure behind my eyes rise again.
Now, it is raining, and I light up the vanilla scented candles on my desk.
As Layla wakes up, she asks: „What have I missed?“
And I have nothing to tell my witch, because her company in candle light and tearing time apart are the only things in life that make sense anymore.
Layla‘s eyes begin to search my room, until she found the half empty bottle holding the books on my bookshelf back. „At least no rum for breakfast“, she said.
And I nod.
That‘s it for today.
At least no rum for breakfast.
Unloved tale
OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…
Just a haunted girl scaring her friends – Writing update!
Intrigued. And quite as bit terrified.Those were the exact same words I got as feedback from my friends whom I’d recently handed the first pages of the witching novel to. Seems like I’ve accomplished my task, right? I’m the haunted girl scaring all her friends!No, but really. It felt as if I was understood through…
Tale about the softest secret
This tale is about a girl I once knew. This girl could not go anywhere without her lovely white shoes. Made of cotton, their rim did not reach her ankles, giving away how thin they were. Their soles were so slim, she felt the earth with every step. Those shoes she needed so dearly were…
Mistress witch writes 