TwoA Chapter by Pryde FoltzThey were tortured until they confessed ... a suspected witch was held under water... if she lived, she was proven a demon’s handmaiden. Death by burning was her fate.II “They were tortured until they confessed. For those who continued to deny their guilt, there was a test, the water test. A suspected witch was held under water. If she died, she was found innocent and buried in sacred ground. If she lived, she was proven a demon’s handmaiden. Death by burning was her fate.” Professor Chestermire paused and sipped at his coffee. The students of St. Catherine’s Academy for Girls"St. Cat"were studying the witch trials of Europe. Everyone was too worried about the upcoming exam to give any real thought to what they heard. The only sounds outside Chestermire's voice were the low murmur of clicking keyboards, or the even smaller scratch of pen on paper. But Bara, remembering something about her own town’s history, did the unthinkable and raised her hand. Like having just one hair out of place on a thickly-jelled and smoothed head, it instantly caught his attention. “Yes, Miss Cavanagh?” “Didn’t Windfall have its own witch trials?” she asked. The question wasn’t met with any real curiosity from the rest of the class. It wasn’t like it was going to be on the test. Keyboards stopped clicking; pens stopped writing. Most of the girls just phased out, but Cassandra rolled her eyes, Louise snorted, and several other Pops, the most powerful clique at school, followed suit by giggling. Bara, despite her good looks and money, wasn’t popular. She wasn’t counted among the brains, and she certainly wasn’t a Goth. She had only two real friends: Amy Frank and Colin Van Fitt from the neighboring St. Xavier’s Academy for Boys"St. X. With friends like Amy and Colin, Bara told herself she didn’t need the rest. Quality over quantity, right? Anyway, that’s what she told herself. Chestermire laughed good-naturedly. “Quite right, quite right, Miss Cavanagh. Salem, Massachusetts is most often remembered for its witch trials of 1692, but Windfall did have its own Petit Inquisition.” He paused, taking another sip of coffee. His mug claimed he was the number one teacher. Placing the self-congratulatory cup on his desk, he put his hands into the pockets of his sweater vest, puffed out his sizable chest and even bigger belly, and rocked ever so slightly on is heels. This was a sign: he was about to go on and on"and possibly"on some more. Sly smiles crept onto teenage faces. The more time he spent answering Bara’s question, the less time everyone else would have to spend memorizing facts. Forbidden cell phones emerged from bags and pockets; browsers opened to banned websites. “If I remember correctly. it was five women and one man found guilty. They were sentenced to burn at the stake, except for one. Her, they intended to bury alive.” The mention of burning flesh and live burials regained the attention of a few others, Patsy Pillanger among them, the only girl less popular than Bara. “Did they really burn them?” she blurted. Patsy hadn’t raised her hand. Chestermire narrowed his eyes before answering her. “There's no record of anyone actually having been burnt or buried. Rumor is some remains were sunk in a lake just north of Windfall, a lake which has since dried up, but I would imagine the townsfolk saw sense before actually putting match to light.” “Did they really believe in witches?” Bara asked. Most of the other girls, realizing no grotesque story of witch burning was to come, shifted focus back to where it had been. The tech-inclined texted or surfed, the brains caught up on homework, and most everyone else drifted back into daydreams. Chestermire might as well have been only talking to Bara. She was the only one listening, but then a small, sparking touch on her shoulder split her focus. Assuming it was Amy, her first thought was to ignore the tap, but there was a second, more insistent summons. Bara turned around. A bright glare came through the window. She brought up her hand to shield her face and blinked. The light disappeared. When her vision cleared, there was Amy with her head down in a Math textbook. Amy didn’t look up. She hadn’t tapped her shoulder. Okay … maybe someone had thrown a wad of paper? It wouldn’t be the first time. The Pops often used Bara as target practice, but both Louise and Cassandra had their heads down, their concentration focused on their laps. Their hands moved ever so slightly. Then they both giggled, one after the other, obviously texting each other. It hadn’t been them either. Bara continued to look around. No one met her eye, and no one seemed to be purposely avoiding it, but there was no way she’d imagined the touch. Chestermire’s sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. “Really, Miss Cavanagh, you asked the question. It is only common courtesy that you await the answer before turning your attention elsewhere.” Bara turned back. Chestermire had grown red in the face, and his thick neck bobbed side to side in his starched collar. He resembled a boiling kettle top. It was hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said, stifling her giggles. “I was distracted. I thought someone tapped me on the shoulder.” “That could only have been Miss Frank.” Amy raised her head. “Well, Miss Frank? Did you tap Miss Cavanagh on the shoulder?” Amy looked blankly. Chestermire’s voice rose in volume. “Of course, you didn’t.” Somebody quipped, “Barbie was off in her Malibu mansion.” “No,” someone else, no doubt a Pop, chimed in. “Her dad lives with Barbie now.” Ouch! Bara’s parents were freshly divorced and her father newly married to a much younger and blonder woman. Bara was far from okay with it. There were unkind snickers all around. Chestermire held up his hand to signal for silence. “No, Miss Frank, your interest was elsewhere, as was Miss Cavanagh’s.” He looked pointedly at Bara and asked, “Would you like me to finish?” She nodded. Chestermire scanned the classroom. Those who happened to be looking up nudged those who weren’t. Electronic devices were put away, browsers closed. All eyes faced forward. “Well then,” he began again. “The women were jailed and tortured. The question is why. Did the townspeople truly believe in witchcraft? Witches? Demons?” No one responded, and he answered his own question. “They may have practiced ancient ways of healing and non-Christian religion, nature worship and such, but communing with the dark side?” Chestermire looked ominously at a few of the Goths, smiled, and shrugged. “I don’t think so. It is far more likely that the townsfolk wanted the wealth the women would lose if they were found guilty. They were all without husband, widowed, or orphaned, and all held property. Greed would seem the obvious motive.” He took another sip of coffee and continued on with the lesson. Again keyboards clicked; pens scribbled. With the heat finally off, Bara looked back. Amy gave her a sympathetic smile in return. The bell rang. Chestermire reminded the class of their upcoming exam and dismissed everyone. The girls began to pack up and exit. The Goths all but flew out of the room, their long black hair flapping like crow wings behind them. Everyone else moved at varying but slower speeds. Bara slid her laptop into her bag and was quickly ready to go. Amy, taking a little longer, had pens, highlighters, and notebooks to put away. “I have to go to Tech and sign out a computer,” she told Bara. “Do you want to come with? Then we can go the library?” Amy finished packing up and headed for the door. Following behind, Bara yawned. “You know what? I think I need a coffee.” They spoke in hush tones as they walked down the hall. The terrible twins, Cassandra and Louise, watched. They stood near the exit with the other Pops gathered around paying court. It would do no good letting them overhear. “You dreamed about him again?” Amy asked. Bara was having a reoccurring dream about a dark-haired boy. The dreams were usually pleasant enough. Okay, maybe too pleasant. They left her with a sense of longing when she woke and realized he didn’t really exist, but the last dream had been a bit terrifying too"eyeless doppelgangers and mouths threatening to eat their own faces. Not exactly sweet dream material. Getting back to sleep afterward had been a struggle, and Bara was exhausted. “Why don’t I go and get us a couple coffees?” she offered. “Then I’ll meet you down in the stacks.” Amy agreed, and they separated, going in opposite directions. Bara headed for the exit. Just ignore them. She had to pass the Pops. She stumbled and almost fell. Someone had tried to trip her. She didn’t even stop to try to identify the culprit. Such occurrences were far too common to bother. “Say hi to Ken, Bar"beee,” Louise taunted.
Mocking titters followed Bara down the hall and out the door. They ended with the slam of wood against a metal door frame. © 2014 Pryde FoltzAuthor's NoteReviews
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17 Reviews Added on July 18, 2013 Last Updated on April 20, 2014 The Wisp
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By Pryde FoltzAuthorPryde FoltzVancouver, CanadaAboutMy written work can be found on amazon.com https://goo.gl/o8sLUi Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/prydefoltzwriter/ twitter: @Pryde Foltz Facebook: pryde foltz Youtubehttps:/http://goo.gl/Eqx.. more..Writing
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