The Degeneration of Gwen Weaver

Nightmares

The mob is getting agitated. A woman in a flowing black dress stoops down and cups my face in her hand.

"Sweetie, it's okay," she coos, but her eyes tell a different story.

"Mommy, I'm scared,"

"Don't worry, I've got y-"

A rock crashes through the window, shattering it and littering the carpet with shards of glass that glitter like the tears on my mother's cheeks. I shriek and she scoops me up and climbs up the staircase to the attic. We stand among the dusty boxes and scraps of fabric, staring down at the angry people below. They throw rocks and tear at the boards of our old Victorian house. A few carry torches. I bury my face in her long, glossy black hair. "Mommy..."

"Hush now..."

A chant becomes audible over the sound of crashing and breaking, over the sound of our home being destroyed.

"KILL THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!"

A pungent odor stings my nostrils, and the attic begins to heat up. Coughing from the smoke, my mother carries me over to a small window in the back. I stare at the drop down to the roof, about ten feet. I squirm away.

"No mommy! I don't wanna! I'm scared!" I cry.

She holds me gently and turns me to face her. She looks right into my eyes and my five year old self knows to quiet.

"Look, honey. I know it's scary. But this is scary. The last thing I want to do is put you through this, but I love you to much to keep you ignorant. When we drop, climb down the drainpipe. It's ten or so feet to the ground. Hide. Wait. You'll be fine. In a couple days, friends will come and get you. Do not show yourself unless they give the signal. Remember the signal?"

I nod solemnly, and rap on the window pane seven times; short-long-short-short-long-short-short.

"Good. Gwen, sweetie, I love you. Never forget that. And remember, no matter what happens, I am always with you."

Then we jump. A few seconds of terrifying freefall before we smack hard onto the roof. She sets me down, brushing a lock of hair back from my face.

"Hush now, it's okay. Go ahead without me."

I stare up at her, realizing what she means.

"Mommy, no..."

"It's okay. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Don't go!"

She squeezes me tight and pecks me on the cheek. "Go."

Then she turns and walks up the slope of the roof to where the mob seethes, waiting. The sky glows red. She stands, silhouetted against the setting sun, and spreads her arms.

"MOMMY!" I shriek, tears pouring down my face. I scramble towards her, but my feet fail to find purchase. I'm falling.

"MOMMY!"

"KILL THE WITCH!"

"MOMMY!"

"BURN THE WITCH!"

"MOMMY!"

"KILL!"

"MOMMY!"

"BURN!"

mommy.