„How do you live in a world like this?“, I ask my witch one morning with an empty pot of coffee in hand.
In a world with roads reaching further than eyes can see?
With a forest growing over each and everyone’s head.
With hilltops too high up to ever be climbed.
Full of spirits to confuse you.
Lost souls to haunt you.
With magic whispering at night?
How do you live in a world like this?
With every whisper in the tree tops ready to doom your soul?
In a world in which the devil is expected to be met on the road, to lure you away, to the far end of the road, deeper into the forest and off into the hilltops, where souls learn to fly.
How do you walk down the road leading home?
Without looking left and right, always hurrying from wind and rain?
Always on the run?
Always looking out?
Layla shrugs, already wearing a summer dress in which I would still feel too cold these days.
„My aunt Mechthild said it was unlikely to meet the devil in person.“
„But when your niece was supposedly obsessed by a demon that really was the most likely explanation?“
My witch rolls her eyes. „How do you live in a world like this?“ And she stressed the last word dramatically.
We look at bills to pay, phone calls to make and a doctor‘s visit to face.
I sit down next to her on the kitchen floor. „I have coffee.“
And we hope for the worst case to be just very unlikely.
Mistress witch writes 