The Last Witch

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The last witch is burnt at the stake, but she is just like you.

Submitted: May 24, 2016

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Submitted: May 24, 2016



The darkness is creeping in all around her. She can't see her hands in
front of her face, just a tiny flicker of light under the bolted door.
The blood curdling screams of those captured and tortured in to
confessing the so called truth, brings flash backs of her own ordeal
and ensures she doesn't relax for a second. They said because she was
barren, in a twist of jealousy she cursed the village children and
they all died. Her cat her supposably evil companion, cooking up evil
spells and curses in her beat down cottage.

The cold is creeping inside her bones now, how long had she been here?
Her eye swelled shut and her fingers all gnarled and bloodied with the
continuous torture. Her hands burned from the chains, she could feel
blood dripping down her arms. They didn't need the chains, she wasn't
going to escape, didn't have the energy to even if she had the chance.
When was the last time she ate or drank for that matter? She had to
confess just to stop the pain. How could she be a witch? They said if
she confessed they would stop. But now here she is anticipating her
terrible fate, sentenced to death awaiting her time in this damp
infested cell.

Suddenly the door opens and the flash of light burns her eyes as the
daylight floods in. Two muscular men with black masks hiding their
faces dash through the door towards her. She begs and pleads,
scratches and claws to be released. It's a mistake, I am not the one
you are looking for. The chains are pulled off of her, she releases a
scream, her raw wounds feel agonising now.

She is hauled up right and marched spread eagled to the door. Forced
to walk on legs that feel too weak to carry her now meagre weight, up
along a dark corridor, with candles the only source of light. Passing
cell after cell, woman and men screaming for mercy, their hands
through the bars trying to gasp on to some sort of humanity. "Your all
next!" grimaced the guard with a flash of his rotting teeth.

She can hear the crowd now, menacing chants of 'burn the witch, burn
the witch.' It seems like the whole village and then some has come to
watch the last witch die. The dungeon door opens the noise and sudden
bright light is piercing. The crowds energy is bouncing off her body,
people start pushing and shoving trying to get a look of the evil
witch. She feels like a freak in a show, being gawped at, I am just
like you she thinks in her mind. But to them she is the one who killed
their children and put a curse on the whole village.

She is thrown onto a wooden cart and paraded around the execution
stage. They believe she is the last witch hiding in the village, so
this execution will be extra special, a warning to any witches who may
still be out there, 'we know who you are and this will be your

Rotten fruit and vegetables are aimed at her. They bounce off her
body, with each hit the crowd roars with delight. A lady of similar
age to her, aims a rotten tomato and hits her in the face, the tomato
seeds and rotting skin skids down her face, the woman laughs with her
husband, I am just like you she thinks.

The blood in her mouth tastes irony, her heart feels as though it will
explode. Her sweat and blood mixing together now, dripping down her
back. She feels herself slowly slipping away, she knows this is the
end and what fate lies ahead. They have took everything from her, her
hope, her dignity and now it seemed fitting they should take her life
too. She is pulled onto the platform, she tries to put her head down,
putting some distance from herself and the crowd but the guard yanks
her head up with such force she sees stars, this seems to bring
enjoyment to the on lookers.

The crowd begins to cheer and the apprehension of what is to come
weights heavy on all who are witness to to the last witches demise.
She is strapped to the wooden stake. Hands first, body second and legs
last, they need to make sure she doesn't escape. "Any last words?" the
executioner asks. "Go to hell" she shouts, "Tell me what it's like
first!" The executioner replies with a snigger.

The flash of fire quickly turns into a burning inferno, the last witch
screams, the crowd cheers in delight. Soon the air is filled with
smoke and the gut wrenching smell of burning flesh fills the lungs of
the crowd. Children scream with fear, woman vomit with disgust, what
an event to witness the killing of the last witch.

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