Once the wizard spoke, the universe was vibrating.
The wizard had a voice so soft and warm to melt a heart away and turn it into something new.
But did he really do that?
Did he really add up new things, and changed the shape, the rhythm and the course?
My witch knows that he didn‘t.
His words still were a spell, though.
The things he talked about was candle light.
Candle light and a place where the rising flood couldn‘t drown you, and now and then he would suddenly demand an answer form those lips slightly open right in front of him, but not ready to say a single word.
An answer to the question why the flood was rising and the safe place was needed at all?
„Yes, he was constantly asking a lot“, my witch agreed. „Always.“
But sometimes, all he was asking for was then reason for the sky not to be purple, and once again the universe was vibrating, was sparkling all around, because he was not just shattering a heart. He was picking up all the pieces, and putting them back together, showing them what else they were able to be.
He was transforming the heart.
Together, they were dreaming of a purple sky, and Oh! The heart was terrified.
„My heart was terrified“, I tell my witch over another piece of chocolate cake after midnight, and she uses my one second of closed eyes in enjoyment to let the notes I had been studying disappear under a pillow.
„Yes, because loving someone teaching you has ever been a good idea“, she teases me.
Of course this doesn‘t spell disaster. It was one of the ideas from my youth, after all …
Then, my witch joined my chocolate cake escapade and sighed deeply.
“My wizards wears vests”, I giggle and tell my witch. “The last one I saw him in was grey, while his shirt was blue.”
“Mine had a black coat with red ribbons.” And she giggles as well.
“Mine decided to teach a nightmare, because he thought he could make the horror go away!”
“Mine accepted the horror and always disappeared into it, leaving me sleepless, but most importantly: Leaving me!”
“Mine got so mad at me when the horror left visible traces!”
God, we are so broken.
„Why do they always do that?“, Layla mumbles with her mouth full. „Asking a lot and not granting any pain and not seeing that each hurt they denied tends to multiply?“
I could remind her of learning to be strong enough to survive all of this, because sooner or later we all have to. I could also tell her of putting pieces back together. But this night, more cake seems to be the appropriate option.
Once the heart stopped aching and recovered from whatever our wizards had done to us, we could see to all the rest and find out, what it had turned into.
After all, you found out the most important thing about yourself, once you had found your wizard, right?
At least that is what I somehow learned to think of people coming and going.
In the end, they showed us a part of ourselves which we needed to see.
We were dreaming of a purple sky, and oh! My transforming heart was terrified.
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 