Once the witch walked down this path, she would see love.
“I will see you again”, the witch whispered, carefully eyeing the path.
The path was here yesterday.
The path is here now.
But how to know that is not gonna crack?
How to know that it is not gonna crumble?
Or disappear?
Is walking it down 1000 times enough?
Enough to trust?
Enough to know?
Because the witch has seen those that cracked.
She has seen those that crumbled.
Her eyes saw those that disappeared.
Their view could tell.
Their view remembered.
Remembered the path to her love.
How it had been paved with wild leaves and rain.
How it had tasted like cinnamon and wine!
“Will eating this waffle bring you back?”
Will tasting love again mean following old steps and having these tastes on the tongue again?
“How do I know? Because I need to know!”
I need to know that the sun is going to rise tomorrow, for me to close my eyes tonight.
I need to know the flowers will blossom once more, to survive the shorter days without a breaking heart.
“I need to know that I will see you again, but how do I know?”
“Yes, how do you know without even trusting your own steps?”, my witch giggles into our cup of coffee.
Unloved tale
OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…
Just a haunted girl scaring her friends – Writing update!
Intrigued. And quite as bit terrified.Those were the exact same words I got as feedback from my friends whom I’d recently handed the first pages of the witching novel to. Seems like I’ve accomplished my task, right? I’m the haunted girl scaring all her friends!No, but really. It felt as if I was understood through…
Tale about the softest secret
This tale is about a girl I once knew. This girl could not go anywhere without her lovely white shoes. Made of cotton, their rim did not reach her ankles, giving away how thin they were. Their soles were so slim, she felt the earth with every step. Those shoes she needed so dearly were…
Mistress witch writes 
I love this…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much! It means a lot to me!
LikeLike