PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

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lxiii

this is quite sad and double sad

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DAWN HAD BROKEN over the horizon by the time that Alice had summoned the spirit of the witch from the red lipstick pot and sent her to the Other Side.

She had sat there in her room with the woman's ghost for over an hour, talking to her and exchanging stories.

The woman, Lara, detailed the horrors of how she had been kidnapped and abused, tortured and exorcised upon.

Until they tied her to a stake and burned her.

Alice had forced herself to remain strong in front of the woman, who had been braver than life itself. She forced herself to summon up her last strengths and powers to send the ghost off towards Peace.

Alice turned the lipstick pot over and over in her trembling fingers.

There were tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

She was so tired.

She was exhausted.

Not just physically.

Exhausted of running, of hiding, or protecting herself and her people. Exhausted of having to watch her people hang and burn. Exhausted of having to bury her own sisters.

Flo Bones had said that the world was evil.

Flo Bones didn't know how evil the world was.

Bodies, bodies everywhere. Bony and starved bodies that had been starved to death by countless sanctions. Women screaming as their men's throats were cut and their tongues fed to the dogs. Bones shattering like glass. Babies swinging from their legs. Flesh tearing like velcro.

Necks snapping in their nooses.

Alice screamed through her teeth, throwing the lipstick pot in a fit of rage. "Why?!"

Tears streamed down her face as Onyx meowed loudly.

What had they done wrong? What had they done to deserve this? Witches had been here long before the mortals. They had welcomed the humans to their land with open arms.

Now, the humans had taken the land and cut off their arms.

Why?

"No, no, no..." Alice staggered up, scrambling over to the other side of the room to where she'd thrown the pot. She grabbed it, turning it over in her fingers to see if it were undamaged. Thankfully, the pot was unscathed.

Alice slumped to the ground, tears streaming down her face.

Onyx darted over to her, sitting in her lap in an attempt of comfort.

Alice leaned against her bed, sitting on the floor and watching the sun rise. In one hand, she clutched the lipstick pot. In the other, she ran her fingers through Onyx's fur.

Brave as Pendle, the witch from Tyburn Gallows had said. Noble as Malkin.

For the first time in months, Alice began to quietly sing the very song that the witch had spoken of.

"In our dirt young Malkin sleeps, ever sowed by mortal greed. Brave Pendle vows on bent knee, let mortal blood flow our reeds.

In new dirt, still Pendle dreams, of that vengeance what may be. Of our women hanged and burned, of our men clawed and turned.