The witch had her cauldron ready.
It was ready, when eyes could not see.
It was hidden from a world that had forgotten to dream.
When the sun was rising reluctantly.
When the rain did not drum.
When the wind did not sing,
but scream.
When the void was forming.
When the shape was ready,
and it fit a lost someone.
When land had burned.
When bodies had failed.
When there was no way back,
but in dreams.
Then, the witch was pouring all over it,
was stirring it around,
holding on to the spoon.
The witch was summoning days this world had forgotten about.
A witch with no regrets
This night feels cozy.Midnight has passed.No sleep, but another cup of tea in vanilla scented candlelight.“Are you saying you have no regrets?”, my witch giggles. When I was younger, I was often warned that I would regret the things that I did. I remember being 10 years old and finally telling my family that I…
Heavy rain and zombie fire – A small town of resilience part 2
This is a hopeful post, although it might not look like it at first. Recently, the region I am living in is experiencing a historical wildfire, and it was getting terrifyingly close to the city that gave me a lot of inspiration to write my witching novel. The town is called Monschau, and who is…
What the stars can do to us
“Are you really lucky enough to miss out on a few shooting stars?”, my witch asks as I try to fall asleep. Well, who of us ever is? We had seen 6 very bright shooting stars, but I was getting cold and tired. Can I afford to sleep during the peak of the perseids? I…
Mistress witch writes 
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