The river...
I tossed and turned that night, struggling to get to sleep.
That river...
That bloody river is in my dreams again.
Crows dart overheard. I can hear the lot of them, their wings fluttering as one so that I can't distinguish between the caws and the roar of the murder taking flight. Yellow light beams through the trees as the sun sets. It blinks out, replaced by purple. The clouds hang, lined with a murderous red tone that evens out the landscape.
"Mom?" I whisper, following the river. It's black, running down through Northester between the hills until it reaches the valley at old man Gerret's. I stop, realizing suddenly what I'm following and where I will lead.
But when I turn around, I face an even bigger fear. The wind whips up, air hot as it blows back the hair from my face. Fresca is leading them. A mob of people from Northester, all accusing me of something at once and individually shouting. Pitch forks and torches are in hand. Fresca almost grins at me through her sedition. "We've been waiting for you."
I feel the water at my feet. When I look down, the river is winding around, glowing an almost iridescent green along with the cool black that feels like ice against my ankles. Dread fills my stomach as I realize what's coming.
A rope is thrown over the branches. I feel the end tightening around my neck as the tree pulls me up higher into its branches, curling them like fingers and pulling me up by the rope now like red like the thread of fate. Eyes appear in the trunk, and it contorts in an abnormal grimace, grinning maliciously and laughing.
I hear the crows again, circling over my head and cawing. The sound is maddening.
My legs dangle, and I swing myself back and forth, struggling to be free. Struggling to loosen the rope even a little, my fingers losing their grip against the rough binds now cinching off the circulation in my neck.
It's not enough for the town of Northester. I hear them chanting, "Burn her! Burn the witch! Burn her!"
My eyes fill with tears as I look down, passing from face to face in search of someone, anyone who might be with me. Who might stand for me. They all seem to have missed the show.
Then, I see a little girl kneeling by the river, stricken with grief and horror and bewilderment. She seems to not know what to do, confused at the angry chanting behind her as the woman she wants to help dangles helplessly near the edge of death.
My vision wanes. Dots cloud my vision. The river rushes up higher, swallowing the girl. I can hear her screams. I feel her mouth and throat fill with water. I sense her despair.
I know because I'm her.
YOU ARE READING
The Witch of Northester
FantasyZelda is alone in the world. She lives alone in the woods, and takes care of her mother's shop. The people of Northester aren't exactly favorable with her, knowing that her mother was a witch and hung at the gallows for it when she was only 9. While...
