Witch Poetry Novels & Stories

Green as spring and just as wild. My chest constricts. My pulse hammers. The wolf inside me prowls, restless and snarling for release. Ours. The word rips through me, raw and fierce like a growl. I grit my teeth, fighting to keep the beast inside. No. No, no, no. She can’t be here. This palace is meant for the powerful: royalty, lords, and chosen delegates. So why is a witch like her striding beside the High Witch herself?

As they swarmed toward us like a pack of wolves, I fought them off, swinging their body like they weigh nothing. I could feel the heat of their breath on my skin, their claws tearing my clothes. They were trying to find a way to get closer to my hurt mate, but I won't give them that chance. With a fierce cry, I struck out my poisonous black claws, slicing through the wendigos around me and their bodies crumpled to the ground.

Shining the red color of her into an orange sunset, in a blink, the throbbing pain on her body lessened before eventually disappearing. "Puppy, come here" Mike ordered with a wave of a hand. Ariana heard his airy deep voice which made her shoulder lifted up to protect her body but at the same time, it made her wound more visible to Mike's eyes, making him ticking his jaw in dislike. On his left palm that he spread out the black long wand formed from thin air to his use. Green thorny vines rooted from the bottom of the wand and end at the crescent shaped top that had a red gem in the middle, seeming to float without anything attached.

“Ass waving ? The witches ?” “Soleil doesn’t emit any scents. The witches do not do that, so they can better defend themselves against the enemy. So I have never smelled it and no one told me about, yes, you know, the taste. That it is so violent on our senses”. "What the hell are you raving about, kid ?"

‘Look for Pixies and a kiss,’ he ordered generally. ‘What are Pixies?’ asked Maddie. Rodolf and Esmee looked up at the same time. ‘Fairies, the nasty kind, ‘Esmee explained briefly,’ who are also known for seducing men with an enchanted kiss. ‘Oh. ‘ Maddie felt stupid, but also eagerly searched for all kinds of information. Rodolf also got his laptop. ‘Here I have something,’ Esmee said, her eyes sliding over the words in a book. ‘Oh, no, sorry, ‘Witte Wieven’ have white hair, of course.’

Crystal fortress of missing stone, Find by the stealer of the sacred bone, Once you leave, consider it the last, For no one sees her more than once. The rhyme makes me uneasy. The lines tangle in my head, meaning nothing and yet pressing on me with a weight I cannot explain. A prophecy, perhaps, but hollow without a key to unlock it. Witches’ words meant for witches’ eyes. Still, I tuck it back inside the book with a shiver.

“It’s a figure of speech. For a human, one was white and the other black.” “Oh.” She grinned. “This is an interracial romance.” Maddox chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.” She read some more. “Together they spun magic that no other witches could make. And when they made love, they did so above a lotus-covered lake, floating, suspended in the air. A mist crept about. Those two clung to their love—with the world shut out.” He leaned back in the chair, completely captivated with her reading.

They only kept on increasing the more I kill. I lost contact with my wolf and start to loose my energy gradually which is really strange, my wounds are refusing to heal. By the time I killed the fifteenth wolf I could barely maintain my stance. I fell to the floor on one knee, barely holding up with dizziness setting in fast from blood loss while the rest of the wolfs took the opportunity and launched another attack to finish me off completely. A surprising blinding light shine through the forest and the atmosphere suddenly become disturbed. Cloud rumbles with great dissatisfaction while it darkens with the speed of light, the air around thickened while piles of dead leafs rose from the floo

“We can try.” The other witches nodded weakly, their hands already beginning to trace runes in the air, glowing faintly even in the lashing rain. The witches knelt in the mud, hands pressed to the ground as they murmured incantations. The air vibrated with raw power as tangled roots began to twist and writhe beneath the floodwaters. Slowly, impossibly, they rose—gnarled and slick with algae—intertwining like the ribs of some ancient beast. The “bridge” formed, a narrow, undulating span across the raging water.

For a moment, the air seemed to shift, as if the very atmosphere held its breath in anticipation of their exchange. "Well then," the witch purred, her tone dripping with intrigue. "Let's talk, my dear. About prophecies, elixirs, and the tangled web that binds us all, now that you have snagged my attention." As Clara settled into a seat near the hearth, the witch's presence loomed over her like a shroud of mystery. The dance of shadows continued, secrets and desires converging in the heart of the forest's embrace.