Some truths belong into candle light with a cup of tea, boiling hot and with sugar.
Yes, witches need their sugar.
And we’re not sorry.
“When do you accept that you don’t always know the consequences of things”, my witch giggles, and as I scoff offended, the light dances and flickers.
Of course I am aware of the consequences of things!
That is one grown up way of thinking I would actually give myself credit for.
“Sometimes, I think of the consequences so much that I want any things to stop, in worry what they’d lead to.”
My witch passionately shakes her head and her curly hair flies everywhere.
“But how often are you right?”, Layla asks.
She was right in teasing me that so often I was wrong.
“I don’t know the rules of this”, had she heard me exclaim quite a few times already, in the rain out on a field, where these truths belong.
When endings are not really endings, although they hurt as if they were.
When biggest fears become true, and somehow life actually goes on.
When someone returned on the wrong site of the horizon.
Whenever I was surprised by something.
“I don’t always know the rules by which things work”, I admit to my witch over a Vanilla Latte, because there also are truths that belong into a crowded train station, with lights and people flying by. “Every day can be as surprising and also as painful as possible.”
And important for survival is still to keep your faith and trust intact, as if that was so easy.
“I have been surprised by wonderful things”, I have to admit. “And sometimes, those I never thought of caught me off guard.”
“Let’s hope for the best with everyday”, my witch giggles into my ear.
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 