„Why did you do this, sweetie?“, asks the woman with the colorful painted face, as her eyes are already losing focus again.
We were driving through the golden evening sun, and the other passengers were observing us skeptically.
The woman who had started talking to me was maybe 40 years old, and her face was painted in green and yellow cascading into a gray disappearing behind her mask more and more losing hold.
„I‘m so sorry for you, my darling“, her breaking voice continued, and more and more other passengers were focusing their attention on us.
Should I put my jacked back on?
„I didn‘t do this“, I tried, but she just laughed.
„Sure, Cutie“, she said. „Just like I don‘t need amphetamine to think clearly.“ And she loses focus and giggles again. „I‘m an artist, you know? I also teach arts. But I‘m a mess and I can‘t live alone anymore. So, I have to find one of these places where people get help, but the woman I love won‘t help and now I have to do that all on my own. But she still comes around to have me do her, you know?“ A sudden cough interrupted her speech. „My name is Kat Merrie, and I need Ecstasy to relax.“ And there she laughed again. „I live in a container in Höntrop. Will you visit me there?“ I decided to nod carefully. „Good. But I really have to get out of there“, she kept on talking. „I can‘t do this alone anymore, you know?“
I did not know, but looking at her, I understood very well.
„Great“, she exclaimed, and I read serious concern on the faces of the other passengers around, so I decided to smile even brighter. „But, Cutie, why did you do that to yourself?“
„I didn‘t“, I insisted. „It was my cat.“
And she focused her eyes on me again. „No, that can‘t have been your cat.“
I sighed deeply.
Why did I even try? You couldn‘t mess with someone surviving as Kat Merrie had done.
„You know why?“, she went on. „Because you did that yourself.“
The way I was holding eye contact meant capitulation, and for a moment she understood, and with a smile retreated deep into her messy mind again.
Eventually, I got up to leave the train and her blurry eyes widened.
„You‘re leaving?“, she asked. „But we just became friends. I am so sorry for your arm! Please visit me!“
And I smiled sadly. „I will.“
Leaving the train, I cast one last view on the other passengers who were clearly concerned about who Kat Merrie would talk to next, and I realized how busy and determined each one of them looked.
“In a weird way it’s nice to have been the one Kat Merrie would leak it all out to, right?”, my witch teases me, and I think she has a point.
I am glad I did not put my jacket back on.
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 