So it has come back. Just when I thought I am all done and dusted with it, like the never ending waves in an endless ocean , a storm is brewing, and hell is breaking lose.
The witch is back with her sharpened claws, dark liners, darker shadows below her eyes. Her hair is disheveled, and her mind is being churned at a breathtaking pace. Is she thinking ? Nope, too anxious to think anything. She is just a ball of dust, a shapeless itch which can't be ignored.
Below her calm demeanour, she is a boiling pot. But what does she want to talk about ! She herself does not know.
----- Let the words be chosen, tested before she speaks out. Let the words be propelled like a crystal ball in an ocean. Let the spell break and storm end.
