„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.
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 