Love to a Witch

Setting Medieval Dark Ages 1584

Aiden Price

@a.pricey

Her eyes sparkled as the evening sun kissed her face while she wept in agony. She was clawed at, held vigorously in the grasp of the sea of petrified civilians. Her screams were ear-piercing, causing the harmonious choir of the birds to halt. The atmosphere was grim as dreary people swarmed, their chants growing in intensity. The repulsive stench filled her lungs, she could taste the approaching death. The jagged narrow blade was unsheathed. The roar of the crowd fell silent and transformed into a deep inhale. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, in desperation and torment, the constraints preventing him from protecting his world. Glares of disgust caught his attention; the crowd had no remorse or sympathy. Instead they whispered and snarled under their breath “Witch Lover”. The knife was held high in the air, time slowed, before a strike penetrated her chest causing drops of blood to ooze and seep into the puddles in the mud. His stomach curled as he aggressively threw up, her eyes closed gracefully as she collapsed into the mud. She had been slaughtered like an animal as that is how they saw her, it was their way of comfort accusing someone for this infectious, lethal disease. She was marked a witch.

A surge of opaque clouds acted as barriers to the remaining light, violent gleams of thunder busted his eardrums. Her snow-white dress stained with the decaying food scraps and faeces as a pool of blood rushed around her. The blustery wind pierced his skin like knives, as he delicately supported her head. His weeping impaired his vision, emotions and thoughts flooded his head. The mob conveyed no guilt, they were numb of emotions as if psychopaths. In unison they swiftly turned and miserably trudged home, the burning light from the candles extinguished. The luminesce from the moonlight exhibited his internal rage, deep veins bulged from his neck, his teeth gritted as he tightly clenched his fist in aggression around the necklace, he was gifted by her as a kid. It was his cherished possession. He destined revenge for this gruesome murder, he rose from his knees, chin held high, the dagger grasped firmly. With confidence he eagerly swivelled his head, but his eyes expanded in shock. His heart paused, his muscles became rigid and stiff and his stomach turned. A silhouette slightly levitating amongst the obscurity of the dense fog. It was her.

Her captivating smile was now grimacing, her dreamy eyes that twinkled glared cunningly and beamed a deep red. Blood oozed from her pores revealing a disarray of clattering bones mixed with the splattering of guts. He questioned reality, was this an hallucination, trauma, or his mind thinking about her absence. His trembling built in intensity. She elegantly pranced towards him, dancing and laughing like she used to. His head throbbed with excruciating pain, his vision disorientating he weakly collapsed to his knees. As she confronted him his perception of her converted, once more she was beautiful, gorgeous, flawless. She steadily outstretched her hand, entwined her fist and pointed directly at the blade. Brittlely she whispered, “Join me”. The atmosphere went dead silent as the wind halted. He inhaled deeply, peering at the knife contemplating the proposition. His mouth went dry, his breaths became shallower by the second as protruding swelling and black veins contrasted his pale ghastly appearance. Her voiced escalated, echoing amongst the confined town, in frustration and desperation projecting her love. He violently coughed blood splattering at her feet.

Coruscating lights glistened like stars in the night sky. Mutters, murmurs and mumbling turned into a bellowing curses and screams. Pitchforks rusted and corroded were raised valiantly. The stench of smoke was loathsome. She looked up at the approaching crowd and bleakly smirked exhibiting no emotion of fear. Hesitantly she spoke in a muted tone, “I have been taken from you by these animals, they have no contrition for you, only the willpower to kill me again, be free, be with me forever”. Blinded by love, by the desire to be with the only thing that mattered to him, being manipulated he trembled as he raised the blade. Only he would know the real reason, he would take his secrets to the grave. He knew he was infected; he knew it spreads as fast as light, only in death would he save every soul but one. Himself. The crowd cried out, screamed in desperation to gather his attention. Strenuously the blade penetrated his heart, his eyes forcefully shut as he collapsed to the ground, a tear steadily descending down his face. The mob craved retribution and revenge, from their eyes the witch killed him. But she saved him from vile torture, preventing everyone from dying. With the wind she vanished, leaving behind two bodies side by side. They would be reunited through death.