Remembering my Trial

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I did some past life regression and this is how I died in my past life. Do not read if you cannot cope with child deaths and/or are anti-satanist

Submitted: March 21, 2013

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Submitted: March 21, 2013

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I sat in the cold, damp prison cell awaiting the trial that would surely be my demise. There was no impartial jury waiting to hear me out, one that would listen to the desperate pleas of an innocent victim blamed for a mysterious crime committed by no one. No, I was waiting for the end of my life. My daughter was huddled as close as she could get to me, shivering with cold but trying to stay calm for my sake.

How strange it felt to know that the little girl of seven years had the wisdom to know that panic was not the way. Any other child her age would have suffered more distress with much less cause for it. We knew what was coming, and we were not afraid of the end, oh no. We could never be afraid of the end.

Because even though they told us countless times that we would go down into the pit of fire and brimstone for the rest of eternity, tortured for our so called ‘sins’, we knew better. We knew what was waiting for us on the other side of the terrible events awaiting us, and it was not a pit of fire nor eternal damnation, not a home on a cloud where we would do nothing but play harps and sing praise to something not there nor was it blank emptiness and non-existence.  Waiting for us was some time in Duat, then reincarnation to another life in another time.

We were looking forward to getting out of the prison, and away from the church. We knew that the power of the Church was waning; ever so slowly they were losing their grip on the masses. I knew that when we returned to Earth things would be different, and when we were led to our trial I was optimistic about the end, because though they said it was the end, it was not, not for us at least.

I actually smiled as the judge declared us guilty of witchcraft, and as we were led to the chamber we would not leave, I was humming a tune to my daughter, who smiled at me weakly. To get to Duat and our new existences, we first had to go through the pain, and we knew there would be much of it, she was scared.

I did not fight as they chained me to the wall, and I only panicked when they led her to the small trough of ‘blessed water’ and the priest walked behind her. She was terrified by then, and I shook my head ever so slightly, to warn her not to scream, and that I would soon follow. But the priest knew this too, and without warning he pushed her head under held it there, grinning at the bubbles as she tried to gasp in shock, her tiny limbs flailing but connecting with nothing.

Before I could stop myself, I shouted at him to stop; I could not stand to watch my daughter drown before my eyes. He pulled her head up and as she tried to take a breath, shoved it back down until the bubbles stopped and her struggles ceased. I screamed her name as I felt her die.

With no strength left to fight, I let them lead me outside to the front of the church where a crowd had gathered to witness the less than rare spectacle that was the death of a ‘witch’. A huge pyre had been built, and a huge stake stuck out from the middle. They tied me to it with several yards of rope and set it alight. While the crowd roared with vicious glee as the flames slowly crept up the wooden structure, I simply stared up at the sky, barely wincing as the flames caught my dress and began to burn me.

I looked down when I heard a thud at my feet and screamed with horror as I realised they’d thrown my daughter’s body onto the pyre so I’d have to watch it burn as I did. I desperately looked towards the sky and tried to ignore the pain as the flames ate away at me. As I died, I smiled. It was finally over.


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