Standing by the window, this witch‘s hair was bound back.
Her favourite blue dress was covered with an overcoat.
Swallowing her shape.
When she was breathing, she was asked not to breathe in too deep.
At least not too much.
By those in terror by her passion.
And when she was singing, sometimes they clapped their hands.
Only to ask her to whisper.
And never risk to be heard.
So it‘s no surprise that one fateful night, she would whisper out of that window and into the darkness, heard by am mysterious stranger:
„Ruin me, Baby.
Please, ruin me.“
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 
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