Rebecca Smythe: Witch in Training || ONC 2021

Becky the Brave

"My name is Rebecca Smythe," read Rebecca softly. No one stopped what they were doing. Only a few members of the small crowd were even looking in her direction.

"My name is Rebecca Smythe." She tried again, this time louder. Several people turned to look at her, expressions of mild curiosity on their faces. Rebecca, feeling encouraged, continued.

"I grew up in Shettleswood. I worked as a milkmaid in Cline's dairy until I was accused of witchcraft and sentenced to burn." Several more people had joined the crowd. One man carrying wood to the pyre stopped what he was doing to listen.

"My life was unremarkable, safe, and boring. Several months ago, I was accused of possessing Baron Clarke's cat. I was not given a fair trial and I was found guilty." People were gathering closer now, muttering amongst themselves. Some of them were squinting up at Rebecca as if trying to remember her.

"The truth is I am not a witch. But the magical community saved me from a very painful death." The murmuring around her intensified and the crowd had doubled in size since she started.

"Over the past several months, I have worked as a governess for a wonderful magical family. I have met witches and warlocks. I have seen unicorns and magical talent shows. I've learned that there is an alternative to the fear we feel when confronted by something we don't understand. There is a whole big, beautiful world out there filled with different ways to live." Rebecca suddenly felt she didn't need the page before her anymore. She lowered the paper and spoke directly to the crowd.

"Everyone knows someone magical. It could be your nephew, your husband, your daughter. Witches and warlocks are people just like us. They sometimes make mistakes just like we do but their abilities don't make them evil. Magic is all around us and it is incredible and all the pyres in the world aren't going to stomp that out." Rebecca's eyes were shining now. She felt brave.

"She's a witch!" a voice shouted from the audience. "I was at her execution! She should be dead!"

Rebecca's speech quickened. This was her only shot to set things right.

"Aren't you tired of all the hate? I know some of you out there today are witches and warlocks! If you all stand together in the open, nothing will be able to tear you down!"

"Arrest the witch!" called another voice. Rebecca felt suddenly nauseous. The voice belonged to Elizabeth Clark. She felt a rough hand pull her off the milk crate and slam her head into the ground. The world split open with pain. Rebecca's vision flitted in and out of focus. Boots. Cobblestones. Mud. This was it. She was going to die.

"Wait!" another familiar voice called. Rebecca felt the hands holding her down ease their pressure slightly.

"My name is Liza McNulty and I am a witch."

The crowd around Rebecca parted slightly. Rebecca squinted upwards and saw Liza, chestnut curls framed in the golden light of dawn, looking frightened but determined. Liza made her way up to the milk crate next to Rebecca.

"Liza, you don't need to do this," Rebecca tried to say but her mouth was filled with blood. "Don't lie for me." With every fiber of her being, she willed Liza to stop talking. To run away.

"Mrs. Haberthy," Liza continued, ignoring Rebecca's silent pleas. "Do you remember when you were giving birth to your second and I was able to ease the birthing pains?"

A woman in the crowd nodded tentatively.

"I did that with magic. Magic can be good."

"We have a confession!" shouted someone from the crowd. Rebecca couldn't be sure but it sounded like Theodore. "Arrest the both of them!"