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Published by anniebal
A short story, yet to be finished that I started for a project.
A short story, yet to be finished that I started for a project.

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Published by: anniebal on Dec 18, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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In the years of the Salem witch trials women were easilyaccused. The witnesses were never doubted; the testimonies alwaystheatrical. The jury while well meaning- could not stand against suchconvincing evidence. They had to act, or their place as authority wouldbe questioned.One of the women who were unjustly accused had indeed been awitch. She had been an inactive one that had never shown her powersto another, had barely been aware of them herself. However it madeno difference; she was one of the accused and with no proof toestablish her innocence she was now defenceless against the nowfearful villagers. The court was unanimous with their decision andshe was sentenced to be hanged until dead. The night before thatfaithful day, she stood alone in her jail cell frozen where the guardshad dropped her. Her long blond hair lay unwashed and straggly downher back. The night crept into the cell creating shadows that leaptacross the walls to fill the corners. A strange rustling made her turn herhead towards one of the corners. A man now stood within the shadows;she jumped in fear her throat constricting so she couldn’t yell. The mancame forward, his long dark cape moving with his body, concealing histrue shape. The shadows moved with him obscuring his lower face, buthis eyes shone with black vehemence she couldn’t look at very long.“You will live.” said the man; the woman cringed away from thevoice; it sounded like the voice of pure evil. However she was unable tolet what he had said slide she responded,“I will die on the morrow; there is nothing that can be done.”With the same tone the man replied,“You will live and will come back to this village three times”“They will kill me, again and again” she whispers, depressed.“You will live” he says, as sure as ever. “You have deep powers;you have yet to realise it. You will bear a son.” The woman, shockedlooked up at him.“That is not possible, I will die childless.” He said nothing andwith a swish of his long black cape, he dissolved into the shadows. The next morning, she was dragged to the gallows by two of thevillagers; a noose was slipped over her head. She had not slept allnight; her vision blurred from lack of sleep. She wept weakly as sheviewed the unsympathetic audience in front of her. At the corner of her eye she saw a flash of a black cape, leaving the shadows of an
alley on a breeze. A slight hope clutched at her heart and she didn’thesitate. She jumped. There was a gasp from the crowd a sharp pinchand then; nothing.Seven days later the woman awoke from deep sleep to find herself afew miles from the village, sore and hungry. She was at first confusedand disoriented, but soon her memory came back and she clutched herneck, disbelieving. She glanced around the clearing seeing for the firsttime the lean-to nearby. Her aching muscles protested as she liftedherself off the slightly damp ground and made her way towards theonly hint of civilization. The lean-to could easily shelter two horses if anextra wall was added it could be a decent place to stay.From within herself she heard a voice so chilling that her kneesbuckled.
.She sat where she fell, scared and certain that if she didn’t go back tothe village she would die a fate worst then death. Still unsteady on herfeet the woman grasped at the edge of the wall closest to her. Thewood bit into her hand. Her will to survive seem to flood her withenergy as she started towards the village.When she came within sight of the villagers, they seemed shocked andafraid but were quickly spurred into action. Yelling, one man tackledher down, tying her hands and feet, all the while screaming words soclose to her ears she could not understand them. The two other menand one woman closest echoed him and her blood chilled in her veins.“Witch! Burn the Witch!”“It’s the only way to kill the daemon that has taken over her corps!”Another shouted over the angry cries of outrage. There was a general agreement because soon the woman was proppedup; wood gathered hastily and piled at her feet. The young tree shewas tied to, bent under her weight slightly, the life-enriched greenleaves brushing against her hair. She was burned as her screamsechoed into the village. Twenty one days later the woman awoke, again one mile from thevillage. She stood, her hands shaking and looked down at herself. There was not a scratch or burn that remained. Her clothing was intact,only a slight smell of smoke remained stuck to her skin, as if the smellhad seeped into her very soul.Again the lean-to offered protection from any prying eyes, be they fromthis world or no. Nausea roiled her stomach as the voice came within
her mind once more, branding her brain with two words.
Go Back.
Once again she trekked her way to the village, this time confident inher survival. As before the villagers did not take kindly to herreincarnation, they tossed her into the river without preamble. Shetried to stay afloat but her heavy skirts pulled her under quickly. Itwould have been futile to get to the surface, for within moments a manwas holding her down underwater. She vainly and instinctively foughtfor her life but the man was straddling her, his heavy body pressingher even deeper into the water. Vaguely, through the ever increasingdarkness she heard the muffled sound of his prayers as he strangledthe life from her.About three months later, the woman awoke from a deep sleep in theclearing. Autumn winds whipped around her as she groggily sat up.Confused and slightly cold, she looked around at the growing darkness;an unfamiliar weight on her belly. Glancing down she realised it was
belly. Feeling herself, she was convinced of her fear. She waspregnant, at least four months. Shock resonated through her,rendering her frozen on the cold ground, unable to move as she feltherself once again. Tears came to her eyes as she contemplated herfate, bearing a demon child. Surprisingly she had no urge to rid herself of the child. Indeed the more she thought of the life growing within herthe more she loved it. She stood awkwardly shaking the numbness outof her legs. The voice came again, louder this time making her stumble.
Go Back!
Somehow she knew this would be the last time. More slowly than lasttimes she went into the village, this time being unseen till she wasalmost to the church. Screams of outcry and fear were uttered from allthose who saw her; however no one approached her. The first to do sowas the town priest, still young; he came up to her and backhandedher across the face. Now that she was an outcast she realised thepower hungry soul that lurked inside the priest, which maybe hadsparked the urge to frighten the people into killing indiscriminately.“Bury her!” he cried “As deep as you can, so that her soul will becloser to hell where she belongs!” Within moments she was tied,gagged and dumped a little way out of the town, watching as four mendug her grave. They dug for hours it seems, but it was still too soonthat she was dumped from a height of at least six feet into the hole.She twisted in the air landing on her side. She curled up, trying toprotect her child. The diggers began to refill it with even faster

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