Creative Writing: The Persecution Of Witche

The persecution of witches had begun in France months ago, and from their burnings, cinders were carried by the wind along a river into Loudon. They whirred through the air along cobbled roads, making themselves known enough to the townsfolk so that they could hear a constant echo of screams all these miles away. That morning, a violent wind tore through the town. The witch was sitting in her home as her window flew open. She was not startled even when some of her books fell off of their shelves. Her attention was drawn to the scent of burning, coming through the window as she inhaled ashes. This caused her to cough and get up to lock the window. She knew that the smell didn't come from anyone innocently burning food or from forest fires.

She was not scared when their steps grew louder, disrupting the sleeping town. What could she have wanted more than to join her children who were murdered at the hands of these same men? She let them beat down the door as she watched through the window. Candles flickered out and the spices shuddered as the door swung open, sending dust throughout the room. She suddenly felt bad that no one would be able to keep her plants alive after she was gone. She wondered if the men knew what else would die if they killed her. They did not hesitate as they tied the woman's hands together with a thick rope and one easily lifted her over his shoulders. Not a word was spoken between the witch and the men as the woman was harried out of her home and to the shoreline, where she watched her street grow more and more diatant as she was carried further down river. She couldn't help but laugh to herself, for she knew what would happen to this town if she died. "Do you know what will happen to you if you kill me?" the woman asked as they drew near to the mouth of the river. Silence. Waves licked the rocky shoreline and send a mist into the witch's eyes. She wondered who they were, and if they had anyone to miss them if she were to kill