31 Days of Halloween

Day Twenty-Four: Witch of the Day

Mercy ran through the night, letting the bright glow of the full moon guide her way. The rains from earlier in the afternoon soaked the loose dirt and turned it into deadly mud and muck than sucked at her shoes, threatening to pull her in. It was like wading through glue and Mercy quickly tired, her hair hanging in wet strands across her face and cheeks flushed like cherries. But she couldn't stop, she couldn't let them catch up to her.

The lush farmland of the summer now became her downfall as she pushed through dead cornstalks and high grasses, each blade ripping into any exposed flesh like knives. Mercy pushed through the pain, gritting her teeth until they ached. The forest was well behind her now, but she knew she wouldn't be safe until she reached the livestock barn. She could hide amongst the cows her father brought in for the night.

A shadow swooped down over her frame, the form of a woman descending too close to her face. She saw unclipped fingernails reaching for her eyes and Mercy dropped to the ground, shielding her head. The nails clawed at her hands and tried to pry them loose, but Mercy kept her eyes shut and arms clenched around her. It was the old woman who lived in the shack outside of her village. Mercy had stumbled upon her home searching for firewood and known she had made a horrible mistake.

The scratching stopped and Mercy slowly raised her head, running again when the old hag had vanished. She knew if that hag caught her, she would be boiled alive or worse, forced to sign Satan's book just as the woman had. No human woman could fly and attack people like a deranged bird. And if the townsfolk knew she had engaged with this woman, even against her will, she would be hung as a witch.

Mercy threw open the door to the barn, shutting it hard enough to rouse the sleeping animals. Cows bellowed in agitation and the goats chimed in as well, a cacophony of noise filling the silent night. But Mercy knew it was nothing that would wake her family; the cows always put up a fuss when anything was disturbed. She unlatched a stall, making herself a bed of hay in a clean corner away from the large animal. She didn't really want to get stepped on.

Mercy slept fitfully in the hay, dreams of the hag strangling her and boiling her bones for her supper. When the cold rays of morning swept across her lids, she sighed a deep breath of relief. She was safe for another day. Or at least, she thought so until hard hands clasped onto her shoulders and pulled her from the warm hay. Mercy screamed, fists beating at whatever grabbed her.

Reverend Henry was standing in the door of the barn, talking earnestly with her father and mother, the baby playing by their feet. Dread pierced Mercy's heart as the stranger who grabbed her hauled her over to the little group, tossing her to their feet.

Her father cupped her face gently, his face desperate and scared. "Mercy, where were thou all night?"

"The hearth was out of wood, I left to get more." Mercy cried openly, her heart breaking as she realized what was happening.

"Did thou dance in the moonlight with Mistress Sara? Did thou make a pact?" Her father shook her a little, ignoring her mother who clutched his arm and sobbed into her apron.

"Sara attacked me, Father. Please, do not forsake me for heresay. Thou know the daughter thou raised." Mercy pleaded with her father but deep down, if the Reverend was here, Mercy would hang.

Her parents didn't say another word, only allowed the Reverend and his helper to drag her away. Mercy screamed for all she was worth, but no one was rescuing her. No one was going to stop this either; villagers gathered around her pointing, screaming. They all wanted her dead, and now Mercy wished for it.

She didn't get a trial like the others before her, just a holding cell. Mercy sank to the floor, sobbing into her arms as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible. She couldn't believe her father believed their lies, it wasn't fair. Mercy wanted to go home.

Night set over the jail, the moon rising over Mercy's sleeping form. Her food basket sat outside the cell door; Mercy didn't have the energy or the will to eat. Her eyes snapped open in the darkness, searching for what woke her but she couldn't see or hear anything. Mercy rolled over and saw what awoke her.

Standing in front of her cell was Sara, the hag who lived in the shack who attacked her the night before. She looked normal now, even if her skin sagged and her white hair was bedraggled. Mercy sat up and scooched herself into a far corner, wanting distance between her and the naked woman. Sara crooked an empty smile; most of her teeth had rotted from her skull.

Sara's skin rippled to an unknown beat, her body swaying back and forth and her chest heaving with her labored breaths. She chanted under her breath and raised her scraggly arms towards Mercy, beckoning her forward. Not of her own accord, Mercy stood and shed her tunic, joining Sara behind the door. She didn't remember how she got out, but she blinked, and she stood in a small clearing with other women. They were naked as well, dancing to the distant drum beat and writhing around in a circle. It was the most intense scene Mercy had ever witnessed and she couldn't help but join in.

Mercy closed her eyes, dancing to the beat and feeling hands on her shoulders and waist as everyone danced. When they opened again, Mercy was back in her cell and morning light bathed her filthy skin. She swiped a hand over her sweaty brow, watching the sun glint on the wet droplets on her wrist. She felt as if she had really been dancing all night, but how did she slip in and out with no one noticing?

Her cell opened and two men entered, forcing her to her feet and dragging her outside clothed in only that little tunic. They confiscated her other clothes when they locked her in here. They made her sit in the back of a buggy and cuffed her wrists together, attaching the chain to a little steel loop beside her. Mercy ran a shaking hand through her ratty hair, wishing for a bucket of water and comb.

As the buggy rattled onto the trail people ran for it, shouting and wagging their fists at her. Terrified, Mercy shrank away as the words witch and hell burned into her brain. Mercy wasn't a witch; a witch had attacked her. How was Sara getting off the hook and Mercy was going on the noose? It made her want to curl into a ball and cry until she had no more breath or tears to give. Even her parents gave up on her.

The gallows came into sight then, the people breaking off and taking their spots around the rope. As Mercy stepped from the buggy, she caught a glimpse of her father and mother with the baby in the front. Her heart burned with anger and betrayal and grief. How could they watch her die?

Mercy was led onto the platform and the noose was looped around her throat, tightened and signing away her death. She sent a silent prayer to God above to take her quick and save her soul for eternity, and then she cast her eyes on her parents. She stared them down and then said in a loud, clear voice, "Thou will burn for this."

Her mother cast her gaze to the dirt, the baby gleefully tugging on her bonnet. Her brother was going to grow up without her and it broke her. Her father's gaze remained on her, disappointment and disgust piercing her heart like arrows. Mercy disowned all of them in that moment, deciding to die as an orphan than a cast out daughter.

No final words were said for Mercy but in the end, it didn't matter. She was tired and wanted it to end now. Mercy closed her eyes and waited for the bucket under her toes to be kicked from under her. When it was, she dropped down with sickening force and her neck jerked to the side but didn't break. As Mercy struggled on the rope, she searched the crowd for a safe place. She found Sara, hiding in the back in a moth-eaten cloak and watched her as her vision faded. When Mercy was finally dead, she had a crooked grin on her face.