"Let her burn"
Year 1692, Salem (Boston)
Church had sentenced sentence to more than 200 people accused of witchcraft. But, still, the witch hunt wasn't finished yet.
A group of three teenagers was walking, into the night, in the forest, laughing and talking. Elizabeth, Mark and Hannah had gone for a walk during the execution of the three first witches in the square.
–Mark, are you sure we aren't lost? –Asked Hannah, rubbing her arms against herself, trying to conserve the body heat. The only light which illuminated their path was the moon's white cloak, which strangely shone alone in the sky.
–Hannah, I know this forest like the palm of my hand. Also, don't look at me! It was Elizabeth's idea to come here! –He said, moving away some branches so the girls could pass without any problem.
All the attention fell on Elizabeth, who smiled sideways, shrugging.
–I guess I just wanted to... –She started to explain, interrupted by a torn weeping of real pain that set her paralyzed there, completely rigid.
The weeping resonated through all the forest, like the echo of a soul in pain walking through the mortal plane during eternity.
–Another witch to the bonfire, I guess. –He mumbled, contributing to the awkward silence that suddenly reigned in the dark forest. Nobody moved during a few minutes.
–Which are the sentences? –Hannah asked, with a weak voice, joining them. The small branches crunched under their feet, next to the leaves that left the tree.
–They say there are four: one for each element. –Elizabeth mumbled, with an inexpressive voice. –The bonfire symbolizes fire, the river one for water, the fallow for wind... –She kept in silence for a moment. –And stoned for earth.
Beyond, they could see the end of the forest. People could be heard there where a coppery smoke was shinning.
–Why is there a punishment in the river? –Asked Mark, confused.
Elizabeth laughed, rude and shortly.
–They tie them to a chair and throw them to the river to let them drown. If they find their way out or they survive, they're witches; so they'll burn them or hang them. But if they die, they're normal people. –Mark and Hannah turned back and looked at her.
Only then, Elizabeth noticed they were looking at her, standing there.
–What is it?–She asked. –What's wrong?
Mark and Hannah shared a quick look between them.
–Elizabeth... Why would you want to go on a walk tonight, at the forest? It's cold out here, it's late... –Hannah started to say, with a scared voice.
–And it's witch night. –Mark interrupted her, with a strong and cold voice.
Elizabeth felt how her pulse was accelerating little by little; the sudden feeling of dizziness. The fear running through her veins.
–Guys... –Elizabeth mumbled trying to keep calmed.–Guys, come on... Don't you think I'm a...?
–Witch.
–What...?
–Witch! –He repeated. The hate growing in Elizabeth's friends young hearts while hers was breaking into thousand pieces. –Hurry! Here there's a witch!–He shouted, calling a group of men's attention.
Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, ran back into the forest. Hearing steps running after her. Multiple voices exclamed "witch" with hate all the time. Meanwhile, she was running, not knowing where, through the forest's darkness.
She ran during almost an hour, avoiding rocks people were throwing at her. Her legs were tired and hurt, and she was feeling dizzy. Starting to feel lost.
She arrived a clear where the moon was shining more. She knew she shouldn't stop running, but, on the other hand... She was too tired.
Done, she got on her knees; grass scratching her legs. She closed her eyes and took a breathe.
Steps and voices were more clear each time. She started to pray:
–Father and mother, who gave me the gift of being able to practice nature's power. –Some villagers were arriving. –Who guided my steps in the darkness and gave me peace when fear was waiting for me in the shadows...
A circle surrounded her, who was crying in silence while she mumbled her prayer.
–Let her burn! –Someone exclaimed.
–To the river, send the witch to the river! –Others shouted with anger.
Mark took a step forward and looked with hate to Elizabeth. She looked up at him, her cheeks riddled with tears.
–To the gallows. –He said, with the coldest and most cruel voice Elizabeth ever heard. There wasn't a whit of care, empath or mere reminder of the friendship there was between them hours before.
Elizabeth shaked her head, scared, clinging to Mark's legs while she begged him to remember all those years lf friendship and begged him for mercy.
Mark, ignoring her pleas, grabbed Elizabeth by her hair and pulled her up. She screamed in pain, grabbing Mark's hand, trying to take it off her. But he was too strong.
–Women like you; Satan's worshipers, liars and disgusting, deserve the bonfire. The slowest and most agonizing death ever known. –Mark said, looking with hate to the scared Elizabeth. –I would enjoy hanging your disgusting body from a tree. From this tree, where your sinful friends did, –Elizabeth looked up and saw, for the very first time, the huge tree whose branche over them were lurking. Six bodies were hanging in there, like weightless ghosts; sentenced to wander through the mortal plane forever. –but I wouldn't be able to listen your scrwams of pain if I did... And that's something that I don't want to miss.–A sharky smile was slowly sewing on his terrifying face, Mark turned arround and watched his angry fellows. –I have too much ideas, guys, –he joked–what should we do?
Elizabeth looked up to Mark's cold eyes.
–Mark, for our friendship's sake, please... –She tried to say.
–I'm not friends with witches. –He said, interrupting her.
Elizabeth's heart broke into pieces.
–Mark–she tried again–by the friendship we used to have shake... –She corrected –please... I beg you; I'm begging you for mercy... Mark...–She whispered, about to cry again.
–Mark, –Someone called him. –Let's tie her up to the tree and let her burn with the others. –He offered.
Mark went quiet for a moment, thinking. Closely watched by Elizabeth.
–Tie her up. –He ordered.
He threw her to the ground while he joined two men with torches. He grabbed a this but short branch and they lit it.
A young marriage grabbed the young Elizabeth and, grabbed by her arms, they took them next to the tree. Meanwhile, she screamed, cried and begged all over again, trying her best to ask for help.
Ignoring her, they tied her up tightly and put branches and leaves around her, creating a base for the fire. Elizabeth, who gave up her hopes and prayers, looked one last time to her neighbors. She looked with anger and hate to her judges and executioners.
–You, my neighbours, angry villagers who punish a woman for not following your path. You, the neighborhood I was raised in, the one who's now about to kill an innocent. You, mothers and fathers; you lies carriers. –Her voice, far from broken, announced inexpressively her veredict:–You, the ones who'll rest between shadows, and in the shadows you'll find your biggest fears... I curse you!!–She exclaimed, winning her ambicious and bloodthirsty public's surprise. –And so I curse this land, bathed in my sisters' blood! Listen closely my advice, and be aware... Because ten years after my death, we will raise again from the death and come back to this land to get revenge! We'll kill your sons, daughters and we'll punish your old bodies... Pray... PRAY!! to your loved God, because we'll get revenge and either he will be able to save you.
They threw the torches down to the branches, starting the bonfire, which quickly started to burn and grow up in towers of flames. Red, orange and a bright yellow lightened the dark night.
Elizabeth cired. The most painful, torn and agonic weeping they ever heard. Her organs were burning with the power of ten hells, and she felt her skin melting under the flames. Fire licking her bones and her soul quietly leaving her body while she was using her last breathe to scream.
She screamed until her throat bleed, until her voice disappeared in the painful sound of her body burning into ashes.
She screamed. She screamed that loudly, that she woke up the wolfs, who howled sadly to the moon, knowing an innocent was being murdered. She screamed that loudly; that painfully, that even her murderers kept the memory of her torn weeping deep inside their fears. And, since that night, Elizabeth lived in everyone's fears, counting the days until she could come back.
