Public feast (Five minutes freewrite)
At least, she won't have to spend another night in this cold damp place, shivering under a filthy rag. Most of all she hated living in the perpetual dusk, the tired grey light that fought its way through the little grimy window, too high up for her to see the sky.
She wasn't scared, she'd had time enough to accept the inevitable. No point in dwelling on the unfairness of it all, what's fairness got to do with anything?
Her fate had been sealed the moment the little Francine drew her last breath. She'd tried so hard to save that skinny ghost of a girl, but it was beyond her powers. Had she been able to cure the poor child, they would've praised God, saying it was a miracle. But, when the girl died, she took the blame. All that pain quickly dissolving into hatred, the mother's cry morphed into shrieks of revenge.
The sun was too much for her eyes and when she closed them, the crowds lining the street thought she was afraid. They started to laugh and taunt her. 'They're waiting for you, down there, you filthy witch!' 'Are you gonna wet yourself when you dance in the noose?'
She opened her eyes startled by a hand pulling at the soiled dress she'd been sleeping in for two months. The soldiers shoved the old man away and the crowd booed. She recognized the jeering face - the old carpenter who had lost two fingers some years ago. Of course they'd called her when the accident happened, they were too poor to afford the only doctor in town.
Someone spit on her and now laughed, proudly displaying the two remaining teeth in his gaping mouth. Her eyes went from one familiar face to another, all distorted with hatred and glee. They were all here, who'd want to miss the show? They would've preferred her to burn slowly at the stake, but the new Queen could not stand the smell, so the gimp, King Ludwig had decreed all executions should be by public hanging. Her execution was long overdue, but the king had been busy with his ill-conceived campaign that had ended predictably in disaster. The least he could do was offer his people a good hanging.
The noose was hanging up high, so they all could get a good look.
'The King will be here in five minutes', a servant came shouting out of breath. The crowd responded with a gasp of anticipation. Kids were hurled up on their fathers' shoulders, women straightened their clothes for the big moment. Francine's mother was right there in the front row, shouting something she could not make out, such was the roar of the excited mob.
The witch bowed her head and started to whisper something not even the priest standing at the foot of the gallows could hear. A soldier hit her over the head to make her stop and the people cheered. But she went on until they put a sack over her head. The last she thing she heard was a cacophony of booing and hissing.
When her feet stopped moving and her limp body was left dangling in the soft wind, the first clouds appeared on the blue sky. By mid-afternoon, the sky was completely covered, leaving the whole town in a sickening grayish dusk that would last forever.
Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge. Today's prompt was: Five! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.
Thanks for reading!
