Innocent

A young woman is accused of witchcraft

Please No CSS

I stood shivering in the small room, stripped bare before these men.  I didn’t think of them as men though, not after what they had done to me and countless others, they were little more than animals.

 

I was taken from my home in the middle of the night, no explanation, my pleas to be told what was happening ignored.  It wasn’t until later I learned what had happened, I stood accused of witchcraft.

 

I wasn’t the first, not by a long shot, I was not even the first in my village, I was the third woman accused now, and like everyone else I accepted these things.  Witches were real, of course they were, what else could account for the terrible growing season we had had lately? Or the bad weather? Or worst of all, the young Simpson girl, seeing snakes in her bed, demons attacking her that no one else could see, her body convulsing as good and evil waged a powerful war for her body? Who could do such a thing to a child? It had to be witches.

 

The first two arrests didn’t surprise me of course; the first was an old beggar woman who had appeared around the time of the girl’s mysterious illness, the second was the village medicine woman, if anyone would have the knowledge about how to do such things it would be her.

 

I could not understand why anyone would accuse me though, I was a young woman, never bothered anyone or so I thought.

 

So now here I was, naked, every inch of my body being examined, studied for anything, a mole, a wart, a freckle…

 

Or a birthmark like the one they just found an inch above my right hip.

 

“There it is! The mark of the best, clear as day.  This w***e has had intercourse with demons!”

 

“It…it’s just a birthmark” I cry out to no avail.

 

I am struck across the face, hard.

 

Calmly, one of the animals picked up some sort of tool, it was cylindrical in shape and what appeared to be a long needle.

 

Noticing my staring he said evenly, “We shall push this against your…birthmark, if it bleeds it is as innocent as you claim, if not…well”

 

I felt unusually calm, I knew for sure the mark would bleed and then they would see what a horrible mistake had been made, as he pushed the device into my side though I felt the blade slowly retract.  My eyes widened in fear, the thing must be rigged in such a way that it could be pressed right against the flesh without drawing any blood.  I knew better now than to protest for who would believe a witch?

 

For in there eyes it had been confirmed that I was a witch.

 

What followed next was days of torture meant to get me to confess to what they already knew.  The mark of the beast was proof but not enough for me to be executed.

 

I was beaten and raped, the flesh around my breasts torn and gouged.  By the end of my stay at there tender mercies I wasn’t even recognisable as a human, much less a woman.

 

At the end it was agreed that they had no choice but to dunk me.  I had clothes on by now, glorified rags but still clothes nonetheless.  I was bound tightly, a crowd had gathered to watch.  The people I once thought of as my friends, my neighbours.

 

I was aware that they were shouting out at me, but I chose not to hear what  I was no longer afraid, no longer in pain, once again I was calm, the type of calm that washes over you when you realise that no matter what happens next, you have no control over the outcome, so what is the point in worrying?

 

I had not felt this way since I was a very small child.

 

I was lowered into the lake and momentarily, I was surprised b how cold it was for such a bright and beautiful day.  I sank quite quickly, I did not fight against the water filling my lungs, didn’t try to fight my way out of my bindings, I pretended I was a stone that a child had skipped along the surface and I sank, gracefully, peacefully.

 

Above the lake everyone waited for me to appear, bobbing on the surface.  They were sure that I was a witch.  That the water would reject me.  After 10 or 15 minutes, maybe longer, the crowd slowly turned and walked away.

 

I was dead by then, still am of course and there is no way I can come back but I am at peace.  Because I know, that in death at least, I have proven my innocence.

Reviews

[bailish]

Marvelous first person point of view story. It tugs at the heart for the cruelty of some men who use their position of authority and responsibility to take advantage of women. I had heard from one source that many of the women accused of being witches were widows who had inherited large sums of money from their former husbands. After their death, the money was turned over to the state.

[Kagey]

Interesting, the idea of a first person story from a witch trial. People can be cruel and ignorant. Good story and original idea.

[Kimberly]

Very good. I like the fact that you told this from the first person point of view in order to show the horrors of a torture we still practice today (water-boarding).