„What do you want?“
Another rainy autumn day that was not cold enough to feel good is almost survived, as this question echoes through my head.
„A pumpkin spice latte with an extra shot of espresso“, I repeat my words and wonder why the person behind the counter is looking so confused.
„Another one?“
I blush and feel the fist of embarrassment hitting into my stomach. „No.“
Too bad no one but me can hear my witch giggling and whispering into my ear all day.
„Yes, you already placed your order“, she keeps it going as my cup is being filled.
„So, what do you want?“
Good question.
Sleep?
A hug?
Right now, probably autumn taste on my lips and a place to charge my phone.
„You remember how you summoned me, right?“, Layla asks, as we sit down in the back of the coffee place.
„I wanted to write myself through the pandemic.“
„Are you done with that?“
„Do you want to go home?“
She steals a cinnamon cookie from my plate. „No, not really.“
„Are you done surviving?“
„Am I dead yet?“
My witch has a point though.
It has been more than two years since I had to live in writing, because my life had fallen apart. I found some answers, much more questions, and have been surprised by different versions and levels of general crisis.
Life is tough.
„Yea, so what would you really wish for right now?“, my witch asks with her tiny mouth full. „For life to be good.“
Life to be good? „Wait, that‘s an option?“
Jokes aside, I wish I‘d have an answer.
Many things that charged my energy in the old days are draining me now. Beliefs that kept me going are hurting me now. „How am I supposed to know. My battery is not low, it‘s broken.“
She just keeps staring at me much too amused, and I wonder when she has had the time to steal my favourite corset and put it on herself.
„I want to have people around“, I admit after a while. „People I can bake for. People I can care for. People that make me get up in the morning, make me prepare meals, and make it comfortable. I want people that know me. I want people I will keep no matter what.“
„No matter what?“
„Yes.“
No matter what plague.
No matter what war.
No matter what collapse.
I wish I had a safe place without good reasons to die and lose each other for.
But in these times, that is the most difficult thing.
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 