Our Perfectly Imperfect World

Chapter 1

Screams outside her house became louder than before. Like lava spontaneously bursting out of a volcano, no longer dripping gently as it did earlier. Lily peeked outside her window, observing the screams becoming savage and distraught.

Several screamers were starting to lose their voices as their screams turned hoarse and pitiful. They screamed as though they were being burned at a stake by Satan's pawns, desperate to escape. Except, they weren't going to be the ones who were to be burned at a stake.

A mob of women were gathered around with random weapons in their hands as they circled a man tied up on a stake. The man looked not himself, as if he was intoxicated, as if he was under the influence of something. He sluggishly raised his head to inspect the crowd with his puffy, dark circle ridden eyes only to be met with a flying stone straight to his forehead.

His head flung back at the impact before dropping. The man was seemingly knocked out. For now at least. Just as the mob was becoming increasingly violent, an experienced looking woman in her forties commanded silence upon the crowd.

Shortly after, the crowd quieted down. Once the shouting was reduced to almost inaudible murmurings, the woman continued her words, "Sisters, we have gathered here to punish the man who has committed atrocious crimes against us. The man who tried to tie us sisters down."

The woman's voice, though powerful and fitting of a true leader, was emotional and stirred the souls of the women present there. She paused and took in a deep breadth as though she stopping a tear from escaping. She lifted a part of her apron and rubbed her eyes with it.

Lily's view was blocked by the window's frame but she could feel the emotion in the woman's voice. Disgust and resent filled her mind and tingled all around her body as she watched the man.

Though just ten, Lily was exposed to all the horrible deeds this man did. She was more exposed to them than her peers.

She spaced out as she observed the scene outside. Chaos was one thing the scene could be described as. But as she observed it more, subconsciously picking up little details of the scene that lay before her, a certain thought persisted on her mind saying that it was beautiful.

The woman ceased wiping her eyes as she pulled out an unlit torch ready to be set afire. A meek lady behind her gave the woman a matchstick.

The woman displayed the matchstick to the crowd as she announced, "Sisters, these men have been doing this to us for centuries. For centuries sisters! All in the name of their pseudo knowledge on witchcraft. Shall we do this to them too sisters?"

Her voice held power, emotion, passion, previous heartbreaks and betrayals. Betrayals that she got from the place she called her own. A perfect voice to gain the pity and the loyalty of others. A perfect voice to convince others. A perfect voice to manipulate others.

The torch was lit up with an orange flare merging with the orange-purple hue of the evening sky. The man tied up at the stake raised his head, searching for the source of heat in the chilly evening. His demeanor changed the moment his eyes set on the lit torch. He knew what was coming after this. He knew too well.

Before he could find a chance to scream, petrol was poured all over his body and face as he twisted left and right trying to escape the liquid. Thought he wasn't met with much success. Quite a bit of petrol found its way into his nostrils, causing him to cough and snort violently.

By the time the petrol's assault on him was over, a bright flame was brought before him. His fear filled eyes reflected the flame as he struggled as though he was abruptly awaken from his sleep only to see a person attempting to tighten up the knot. It was to help them burn the bug without it escaping. After she finished the act, she let the woman with the flame edge nearer. So near that it was uncomfortable to watch.