Have her candles burned down?
Have her matches been used?
But she is still alive?
Has her chocolate been eaten?
Has the paper been wrapped around her fingers?
As sparkling rings?
Have her flowers died?
And the blossoms been collected, cherished and cared for?
She was locked up.
Are there bars before her window?
Painted in gold?
Yes?
Oh, she was locked up with love!
„And he is out, chasing the nightmare“, my witch giggled into her cup of tea as we return from our visit to a castle slightly younger than my witch, and my heart aches.
„Why are the good ones always out there ready to die?“
„Because otherwise, they would not be the good ones“, Layla reminds me.
She was right. And who did my heart think it was for protesting this and wanting someone back who was probably saving the world?
“This shit looks prettier when we suffering in castles”, my witch stated.
Cheers.
It’s prettier to suffer in a castle.
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 