Lick me when I’m leaking
I‘m leakingout of infectious witching eyeshaving dreams drop outhaving drowned in themwith favorite memories only ever imagined. I‘m leakingbecause his eyes once widened when I was shiveringwere so warmwere so widewere all I ever wanted to have seen me. I‘m leakingnot just after the one but all the thingsthat could have beenbut never wereand leaveContinue reading “Lick me when I’m leaking”
About memories
I remember how simply having all my memories could make me happy. I could easily convince myself once that things ending was not too sad, as long as they had been lived.When I was 23 and told this my 49 years old lover, he almost was personally insulted by the kind of strength that IContinue reading “About memories”
Spring, again.
Spring could be so pretty, it always made me sad. When the early sunrise was pink again, and the sun began to shine very careful after all these dark months. „I wish time would stop being linear“, I say to my witch. It was almost too warm to wear my boots, but only almost. IContinue reading “Spring, again.”
Flashing back
Good morning. How is your tea? Good. How is the cupcake? Delicious. I am having flashbacks to when Sophie and Kim left. Yes, me too. The snow is melting. It is getting warmer. The sky was pink in the morning. Beautiful. I am so homesick! Me too. The trees are still bare. Still almost dead.Continue reading “Flashing back”
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In this writing, there is me, and there is Layla. Layla is the witch living in my kitchen during the global pandemic of 2020, and I try to research and write a novel about this person that happened to be burned as a witch.
I summoned Layla with chocolate and wine, and sometimes with ice cream, and we had the dark kind of fun, and were missing our boys, always good for a tale about surviving Dystopia.
And sometimes, we only exist at 4 AM, and write our tales about all the things that never were.
Seriously, read our stuff!
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Why I write about witches
I have already written about how I summoned Layla, the witch living in my kitchen during the pandemic, with chocolate and wine, and sometimes with ice cream, and how we had the dark kind of fun, and were missing our boys, always good for a tale about surviving Dystopia. But I think, this might beContinue reading “Why I write about witches”
Tale about a witching house
Every witch once had a home.A house providing a roof to protect them from the rain and storm outside.It is a tragedy that witching houses do have windows for eager eyes to stare through. Every witch once had a home,to come back to from however far they escaped into the forest.A home with lights toContinue reading “Tale about a witching house”
And what did the universe say?
„And what did the universe say?“ Sometimes I wanted to answer this with „Nothing so far.“There was a lot of silence, a lot of opportunities having gone to dust, these days. But then again, there is something. There is the wind, and the highway on the other end of the field. There is the smellContinue reading “And what did the universe say?”
Why witches burn
The image of the burning witch has become legendary. It is a known fact from history that certain, unique individuals have been burned by the stake for centuries, while the legend of the merciful executioner breaking their neck just before the suffering begins is mostly fiction. But why exactly do witches burn? Or more specifically,Continue reading “Why witches burn”
