The Green Mile

The nineteenth year of King Frederick's reign

Elizabeth was five years old when she was named as a witch.

It was the nineteenth year of King Frederick's reign, and the wyrm had taken the vicars daughter. Mildred, her expression as sour as ever, had declared that they must attand the memorial. After 75 years of abductions and mutilated corpses once a moon, the villagers had stopped looking for those who were "taken".

People were grateful when there was no corpse. There was no denial, but instead thankfullness that their last image of their beloved was not horrific.

Elizabeth had not really cared for the ceremony, gazing instead at the tempting expanse of space before her. When Aunt Mildred had finally looked away Elizabeth had escaped from her scrutiny.

Of course it was not soley Elizabeth's decision to leave. She had discussed it with the voice for at least five whole minutes before she mustered the courage to leave.

The voice told Elizabeth that it was 6, and it was always chatting to Elizabeth. You might have thought that the voice was a bad influence, but Elizabeth usually persuaded the voice to go along with her plans.

Together they wormed their way through little holes and explored the labyrinth of the village. Elizabeth's dress caught on a rusty nail in a particularly tight spot, and she began to panic.

She twisted and writhed and her breaths became shorter. The voice shouted, but Elizabeth's mind had been thrown into chaos. She flung herself forwards and her dress ripped down the back.

The voice laughed at her and Elizabeth threw a tantrum. She shouted and screamed at the voice to shut up and threw herself on the ground.

"Raven" Whispered the voice softly. "Please don't be mad at me."

Elizabeth, forgetting her resolution to ignore the voice, sat up.

"Don't make fun of me then."

A gasp made Elizabeth turn around. A young woman, around 16 was staring at Elizabeth with a look of ablect horror. Elizabeth spun around to look behind her, expecting to see a body or the wyrm.

There was nothing.

The older girl was transfixed by the sight of Elizabeth's back. The was an intricate mark there. The mark was vaguely oriental, and it ran the enire length of her spine. It was made of tiny handprints, red and slightly raised.

Elizabeth twisted and the dress moved, revealing to the older girl the entire birthmark. It was the wyrm.

The girl screamed a single word.

"Witch."