Witch facing the world

I wrote about the world making sense of us not so long ago.
This can be tough, because it is not always the kind of sense that we would like it to be. It also can simply be unfair, or sad! Since I don‘t know how to deal with the sense the world is trying to make out of me right now, I want to take a look at what it meant for my witch to face this world and the dark tale that it had placed her in.

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To be identified as a witch, three things had to be proven.

Witches bond with the devil.
… Or one of his demons. This is the most basic accusation, because otherwise there is no way for a human being to acquire the power to do actual damage to the world.
Witches were believed have been seen talking to the attractive young man who was hiding horns under his hat and had eyes glowing at night. They were reported to make love to their demons, and this demonic love-making was known to be a lot of fun, since demons were twice a man, if you know what I mean (who wouldn‘t want to try that?).

Walpurgisnacht!
After bonding with a demon, a witch was believed to attend a demonic wine tasting. The devils party on the highest hilltop around the town! Walpurgis night, or whatever you may call this. Witches were believed to be a secret organization with the goal to damage the world. Once a year, all of them met with the devil and his demons and made new plans. Once a witch was questioned, she was forced under torture to name other witches, because they never come alone.

One last thing to prove that searching for a witch was justified was actual damage to this world. The physical world we live in. Witch hunts in early modern Europe occurred after existence threatening disasters. Crop failure. Dying cattle. A plague.
Finding a witch would make sense out of these heartbreaking things.

This is why the world placed my witch within their dark tale.
The world around her did not see a young woman who had survived a terrible disaster, had outlived most of her family already, and was still breathing. They suddenly remembered her kissing a demon, making love to shadows and escaping into the hills at night.

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When the world around is making sense of us, it is not always easy. It can be sad, or unfair, and sometimes even dangerous. There are moments, where for some of us it feels as if we are expected to run around with a knife down our throat and are still expected to function perfectly normal.
And still, we sometimes have to face this and cannot always escape and hide in just another witching dream.
„Maybe next time my heart will beat as slow as theirs“, I whisper into the candle light and wondered if a few centuries ago emotions that could make my heart race would have made me a witch.