The coziness of witching

„Ingredient number 5 cooked in a pretty, red pot“, a sweet voice giggles into my ear. „You‘re such a witch.“ ,
I make a face and pour the strong coffee into my favorite cup. If it makes me a witch to mix it up with milk, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, allspice … have I forgotten something here? Yes, cocoa! Cheers! On finding a cozy feeling at the bottom of this cup!

A witch would know where to find it.
Not just the right words for its summoning, and not just the right way to stir the pot for a violet cloud.
A witch would know which tastes would work, which scents would keep a soul from leaking.
She would know which blood to cook, and whose flesh to add.
A witch would know.
And rainy days would taste like apple and cinnamon, and feel like the deepest breath.
Because a witch would know the right color, and recognize the sparkle in just the right moment.
Even in the deepest night, she would know where to look, and would find it even if only with her hands.

This is why the image of the witch stiring her pot, with eyes so otherworldly and words so often misunderstood has become a legend.

A witch knows where to look for what a heart desires.

„All I want is apples and cinnamon when it‘s raining“, I tell my witch, waiting for my magical cup of coffee to take over my soul. “Maybe for autumn my living room needs more orange. Maybe I should cook the first pumpkin before the autumn equinox.”
“Maybe the floor is lava.”
“Maybe.”
“They call this magical thinking”, Layla giggles.
Magical thinking, magical cup of coffee – I need to find some comfort!

… Finding the right taste, and scent and colors when needed is the coziness of witching.

Keeping the connection – About taking the next step

I remember standing on the same field where I spent most of the past unnerving months. Listening to the same three accords throughout a song reminded me of time passing, of the feeling of spending time with people while doing something special together. Studying for an exam, rehearsing a song, going on a trip -…

Of memories and ashes

Once you were thereTwo minutes afterWith coffee and rainI will rememberThe way that we wereThe world has felt whole. Once we were thereIt was a ThursdayWith tea and a smileI will always rememberIt made me forgetThat the world has got holes. I want this to beThe one thingTo hold on toTo fill up the holesWe…

Published by Mistress Witch writes

About the historical horror of living. Drafting my witching novel. Chasing dark, forgotten and haunted tales.

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