Sunday, 15 September 2013

The Trial Of A Witch


Waiting for my time to come, I established my flesh-stricken and bloody body in the corner of the murky, dark, satiating cell. My wrists, pulsating red from the tightness of the impenetrable chains holding me against the solid, brick wall, was draining my steadiness. Footsteps sloshing and wallowing through the water dripping from the hole-covered roof; drained out the groan protruding from my cracked lips. As the ancient steel door collapsed open, a radiant light reached through the begrimed prison bars; holding me enslaved. A vile, bearded man stepped within the compound, engraving me with the rotten stench that he bore. As he spoke his crackling wooden teeth collided, making his voice much softer. “It’s time.”
His old, nimble fingers grasped the silver keys at his leather belt; he lifted them to the rusty lock, before turning them slowly. “Clank”. The oversized lock glided off the gate leaving me staring deep into the bearded man’s eyes. His shadow blocked off the light, leaving me blind once again. Grabbing me firmly by the chain, which is now tearing at the gleaming flesh of my wrists, he pulled a sweaty, brown sack over my head, and then dragged me through the damp, steamy hallways of the rotten underground basement. Aching, my legs left a trail of dirt and blood along the corridor. The brick floor was cold, and stung like poison at the cuts I had received in this hellhole. The sack was removed, leaving my charred face staring quietly up at the massive stained-black doors leading to the courtroom and to my fate. “Get up.”
As the doors creaked open, every head snapped backwards and the eyes of humans were staring deep into my delicate skull. The man with the large red coat asked the question that would decide my fate. “Do you plead guilty to the act of witchcraft?” The eyes of the crowd bore deep into me still, monitoring me, watching for mistakes. “Yes.” The man with the large red coat gazed at me with stern eyes of astonishment. “Very well.”
The jaws of the audience fell to the ground. They were shocked, whispering to each other intently. No one had ever pleaded guilty before. I was immediately taken to the floor, bound up with rope, harshly digging into the skin and flesh of my heels and wrists. The sack was placed over my head and I was left in the despairs of the cold, dirt encrusted cell that I would be living in until tomorrow, the day of my death.
Morning arose, light streaked out from the square window knocked out of the brick wall, lighting up the dried dark red blood still streaking down my pale face. Memories flashed around my head and tears swept down my freckled face as I thought of the dangers to come. The light grew, as the bearded man returned, opening the fine steel doors for the last time. I was not dragged but walked out to the fine wooden structure that is the barrow. I guess they knew there was no use in running. I walked up the oak platform, stumbling and tripping on the way. The man with the red coat stood there, eyes bearing down on me. “Step up, and face your fate.”
The loose rope was tied around my small nimble neck, the smooth skin of it digging into my flesh like a snake. I jumped, feeling the air fall past me one last time, the snatch around my soft neck caught. The air was sucked out of me, my lungs crushed by the impact, and my arms and legs flailing, trying to find the sweet ground to tread on. My body went cold as I started to lose touch with the images of life. I used my last flinch of strength to get revenge. I pulled out of my scrubby pockets a doll wearing a large red coat and a needle. It was all over.

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