A Malignant Tongue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Wasn't sure if this qualified as a short story or poem so am posting it in both.

Submitted: October 28, 2017

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Submitted: October 28, 2017



A Malignant Tongue

In the1600’s, among a small and close community,

dwelt a woman who just said her stuff – sure of her immunity.

She thought herself superior, she really was quite mad,

claimed aristocratic roots meant she was never bad.

But this woman liked to stir things up, cause trouble in the town;

if someone should offend her she would try to bring them down.

She’d fire off her tongue at anyone, for she was so secure

that no one could defend themselves from one that was so pure.

There also dwelt a woman, Hex, we’ll say she’s named,

who wanted just to get along – a peaceful life she claimed.

When a neighbour became targeted, she spoke in his defence --

the woman took exception even though it made no sense.

The woman really went to town with her insinuations,

the clergy, she approached, with her made-up allegations.

Hex, she declared, was but a witch, and for it she should burn;

some townsfolk went along with it – the truth too hard to learn.

When brought to face her trial, Hex just held her silence

which irritated those in charge who read it as defiance.

There was no point in claiming innocence for that would just entail

more questioning and torture with a hammer and a nail.

The woman danced and clapped and cheered; the wood was built up high,

when Hex was bound and tethered there, she gave a victory sigh.

The final chance now to confess, Hex just stood straight and tall

she stared straight back in to the crowd, taking in them all.

The wood, it was so very dry it did not take long for the flame

to spread among the pieces and with tongues of fire claim.

The woman laughed delightedly – Hex held her with a look --

something was occurring now, her confidence was shook.

Hex folded in upon herself, the flames they could not reach,

she cast a spell so potent that her victim then did screech.

The woman now was but a worm and Hex was now a bird

that swooped and plucked it in its beak while no one said a word.

Hex the bird, flew way up high and simply just let go,

the worm was just left plummeting and didn’t even slow.

The bird it circled once around those that she’d once known

then with a flap she flew away, to find a brand new zone.

The moral of this story is that if you want to bitch

better to beware in case your victim is a witch.


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