Witch Lies

The clouds hung heavy with rain as the storm waited to break on the town. It’s been building up for days, with drizzles and strong winds all throughout, but everyone knew tonight was it. God’s voice was going to be heard in the heavens and his tears were going to pour on earth to wash the sins of men.

The young lady walked through the busy town market along with her maid. A smile was on her face, and although she could feel the cold in her bones, it didn’t bother her that much. She came to love winter. Winter used to be a constant reminder that she was not home, and that she had no one. But ever since she came back, winter meant cuddling under the quilt and lovemaking by the fireplace in her bedroom. Despite having to drag the hem of her dress through the muddied streets, she couldn’t help but reminisce about last night and his parting promise to come back that evening. She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the woman rushing in her direction until the last second. She stepped sideways and threw the look of dismay she usually exchanged with the lady. This time, however, the woman didn’t glance at her disgustingly but instead stumbled on nothing, and fell to the ground.

-Witch! Witch! The woman screamed.

Maids followed their mistresses along. Gentlemen tipped their hats and politely greeted every lady who passed by. Even father Mathew was there with a couple of brothers dressed in the black robes of the Puritans. They were on their way to the church before her screams had stopped them. Mrs. Nightingale knew this was the perfect setting to make a scene. All the pieces were in place, and it was time for her to get back that which was rightfully hers, what belonged to her before this despicable spoiled girl came back. Everyone was staring at her in shock. Some of them were overtaken with panic. A witch is among them, what could be more terrifying? What shocked most people was not just the horrific revelation uttered by Mrs. Nightingale but the identity of the person she was pointing at while screaming that dreadful word.

It was none other than Miss Mary Blanche.

The beautiful young woman had an unwavering look as she stood there with everyone staring at her. She kept her eyes fixed on Mrs. Nightingale with her black lacy dress and her sharp nose. Her harsh eyes smiled as the hateful woman made her atrocious accusations. She waited for people to laugh it away or for the real accused to walk out from behind her. But no such thing happened. Mrs. Nightingale knew exactly who she was accusing, and she was not going to back off until the evil witch was executed.

- I here forth accuse this woman of witchcraft. I demand you arrest her now.

Her words boomed through the cold air as she kept looking from one person to the next until her eyes landed on their target. The sheriff’s men. Her husband’s men were standing right on the edge. They have just heard about the commotion and came to see what all the fuss was about. They were probably expecting to break off a fight or maybe catch a thief. But here they stood in front of the respectful wife of their boss and the attractive Miss Mary.

- Oh dear get up or you’ll ruin your dress. Said Mary calmly.

- Don’t listen to her! She’s trying to trick you! I finally see this woman for what she truly is. A devil’s servant with no soul! Yelled the other.

- Nonsense. Now stop your childish jabbering and get up. Anger has started to take over but she had to remain calm. Mary knew what this woman wanted and she will not allow her to have it.

- You witch. You devil’s whore.

- Oh Mon dieu. Well that was just rude.

Mrs. Nightingale smiled and leaped for the opportunity

- Did you hear her speak those twisted words? Almost no one in town knew French so they could’ve meant anything for all they knew. Why have you come here you witch. Why do you want to curse us?

With the last word she fell to the ground and closed her eyes.

- Well now you’re just being dramatic. This was Mary’s last attempt to avoid her most feared outcome, but alas it was inevitable.

The sheriff’s men could no longer stand idly and watch. Two of them grabbed Mary from each side.

- Tend to Mrs. Nightingale at once. Said one of them to third guy.

He went to her and started to wake her gently. Everyone was gape mouthed now. Some of them were scared, some of them curious.

The sheriff heard the commotion on his way home from a very important meeting. At the same time a young boy had just arrived and he was asking his mother about what happened. She told him that Mrs. Nightingale had accused Miss Blanche of witchcraft and then Miss Blanche gave her a terrifying look and said evil words that sounded like a witch’s spell that made Mrs. Nightingale faint.

- What is this talk of witches and spells? Those words should never bet uttered in my town.

The sheriff made his way across the crowd as he assessed the situation. He was a middle aged man, tall with hazel eyes. His hair was unusually messy as he covered it with his hat. He wasn’t particularly handsome. Yet had a sort of a feminine beauty to him, especially with his well-drawn eyebrows and full lips. He walked across the crowd as his body shivered from the cold. He was in such a hurry to get there that he had forgotten to put on his coat.

- Oh sheriff. I’m glad you’re here. Would you kindly tell these men to let me go?

Miss Mary sounded desperate and hopeless. The color was gone from her lovely cheeks and her green eyes were teary. Two of his men were holding her by her dress’s sleeves. It was an expensive dress she had brought with her from Paris. He didn’t know her very well but he knew of her. Everyone knew who she Mary was. She’s been the towns talk for weeks ever since her return from her travels. She didn’t just have marvelous beauty, she also had money; lots of it. Her father had died and left her a fortune, a huge house in this town and even a ship. Everyone wanted to befriend her or to be her. She was strong, outspoken and smart. Could she be a witch? He wondered. But he had no time to ponder upon that question. The situation was already intense enough, and he had to start to dismantle it before it rose any further.

- I will do no such thing, Miss Blanche. Not until I understand what’s going. He looked at his wife lying on the ground. She slowly opened her eyes.

- Oh dear husband! Thank goodness you’re here. That loathsome woman! She did something to me. I don’t know what it is. She hexed me. Mrs. Nightingale fired her words right in Mary’s face.

Whispers spread and someone shouted “evil witch” and threw a shoe at Miss Mary. It hit her square in the face and covered it with mud.

- Quiet! The sheriff said. We are not animals. We have heard tales of witches from other places. We could only hope their evil would not reach us. But now that it has, we shall deal with it the way god showed us.

He looked at Mary almost sympathetically and then continued;

- Take this woman to the church and god will tell us if she’s guilty.

Mary struggled as the two men dragged her. She knew she couldn’t run. She wished her strength hadn’t failed her. She wished to reach out to at least say her goodbyes. How could this have happened? How could that treacherous woman doom her, defeat her, humiliate her in front of the whole town? People threw things at her and shouted “witch” or “burn in hell”. She tried to be strong but then something hit her in the back and the pain brought the tears she’s been holding down her cheeks. She looked ahead at the church. The large grey building seemed to call to her. She remembered many years ago when her father used to bring her to pray. She remembered the conversations she had with the angel at the gate and how hard it must’ve been for him to stand and carry that cross. She looked at it this time through tears and mud and she prayed for the first time in years.

She prayed for a miracle.

TO BE CONTINUED…