Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Don't you know witch clothes even fit me




Last night, this witch told me that she feels just as I do, in relation to this site. I thought, impossible, to myself, I don't even feel this way, at least not for very long, I don't. But I couldn't think fast enough to ask her what she meant. 

After the unholy sabbath, I assumed she meant the recent fires and the odd stresses and pressures that have followed them, a sort of psychic terror. It's inconceivable that she feels the same as I on other matters; whether expressed here, advanced, or in perpetual retreat, many found limping into the past. 

But she is a witch, maybe she was trying to trick me. It is what witches seem to live for. At any moment I expected to see her take flight, cackling from the skies, the moon a spotlight on her witchery in action. That might have very well scared the shit out of me. 

Or maybe that explains everything - I'm a witch, have been all along. 

It's the alibi that explains the curse. 





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