And since when has darkness been her enemy?

Restless and stretching, bones and muscles, flesh and soul. Reach for the Moon's hand—and find empty air. She sits in the dark and contemplates her choices. Is this the witch's curse? To be so riddled with worry that her bottom lip begins to bleed? Her powers only extend to others and do little to console her own soul, damned as it is.

Her spirit-companion sits near the fire, though it can feel no heat nor cold, and only looks up when she moves around the room. It can feel her restlessness and understands that its immaterial form can offer her no solace at the moment.

With the ground so frozen, the worms do not come out to play and she fears she may have lost her one and only true purpose. A sickness has attacked the small town and there are many knocks on her door for a cure, but she needs the petals from a rose and no one can offer her such a delicacy. Why, then, has she been given this task? Materials are so bare here. Why does the Crow God insist she stay? He says there is a darkness out to get her, but why does he care? And since when has darkness been her enemy? There are many questions keeping her eyelids from closing tonight, and very few answers to satiate her worry.

The Worm Witch

There are a few out there who know about a project I have been working on called "The Worm Witch," and there are even fewer who know about the origins of the tale. The Worm Witch could raise the dead, being one of the Nine great witches of our time. You might see her story here soon, in fact, if I can ever bring myself to share it (I'm a greedy artist sometimes).

Something rather odd happened to me this morning: last night was filled with awkward dreams and slight echoes of old friends and their betrayals. I don't know if I was thinking directly about the Worm Witch while I dreamt, but I know I had thought about her before I fell asleep, even if the thought was fleeting. Well, I opened my eyes this morning and found a tiny, brown worm staring at me. Literally. It was sitting up, it's midsection bent, and it was looking at me inquisitively. I'm not sure where he or she came from but maybe, perhaps, I called it in my sleep...?