When laying on my bathroom floor, I have to pull my legs up to my stomach to fit into the small space under the sink.
The first time I ever did this was when a bottle of wine had not been able to calm down my thoughts and I wanted to tear myself apart.
My witch had examined the bathroom floor before and had lost herself in it. Her eyes embraced the wooden structure and her round and wondering, infectious witching eyes found them beautiful, and just as beautiful as only eyes desperately searching for light to conquer darkness could have found them, and on she went. It could have been hours in which she was losing herself in this to escape all the darkness a witching heart has to bare. „This carving looks like the eye of a cat“, she would sing with her euphoric witching voice. „No, a Lion! I love the eyes of a lion!“ And she laughed in a way in which someone laughs not only to laugh and somehow we both escaped our pain on wooden carvings with were never supposed to make this kind of sense.
Those words of my witch made me think it was okay to collapse onto this same wood when having drunk too much and still tearing the skin which had never been touched by a certain someone. While doing so, I heard the wind on the fields and even the highway in the distance, and it felt almost as running from reality.
But there is so much more about my bathroom floor.
The wooden carvings which never were supposed to make this kind of sense to us bot do are a place to take with us whatever darkness a witching heart has to bare. Besides falling in love with lion eyes, or collapsing and hoping to manage to keep wearing our skin, one of us might have been laying there sobbing and sighing and might have made a love come to life which never had the chance to be, while the wind of the fields might have waved through our hair and made it tickle cheeks and shoulders.
My bathroom floor is a place to have thoughts and dreams and to battle the darkness, to get desperately drunk, and to feel a love that never was.
A true witching piece of a floor!
What is the most unexpected place of magic in your world?
I wish I’d told you all my stories.
I want to tell you all my storiesIt’s not that they would changeIt’s just that I would likeTo see themFormA new expressionOn your face I need to tell you all my storiesI am not sureIf they makeSenseThe way I thoughtThey do. I will tell you all my storiesThey frighten meI’m sure you won’t endureI see…
Dealing with darkness in writing
This spring afternoon is glowing pink and tastes like strong tea. It feels much too familiar, and I begin to open up.I feel far away from myself as I start to talk, to babble on about my novel. About all the things I’ve been reading about in the past 5 years. About the 17th century,…
Radical witching novel rewrites at 4 AM!
I wore the same night dress my witch used to wear to get drunk on my windowsill, when I suddenly had an idea at 4 AM. Great ideas always happen at 4 AM, remember? This one however, kept me awake for at least a week, debating it back and forth. At some point my witch…
Mistress witch writes 