The Drawing

No one remembered who first said the woman was a witch. What is certain is that this was quickly transmitted by word of mouth, and in the end, the woman came before the judge.

He had done no wrong. He hadn't bothered anyone. Was she weird? Maybe. But what if you're different from the others? In this case, in the eyes of other people, you can get strange shapes and meanings. And like anything that is hard to understand, you are blamed and marginalized.

The rumors had ignited so much that everyone was afraid of her strength. She had chains on both her hands and feet. And because it was rumored that she did the spells with the help of her eyes, she had a steel mask fixed on her face, attached to the back of his head with three locks. The mask had only a narrow opening in front of its mouth.

This is how other witches will leave these places.

She was sentenced to life in prison. Will she be able to live in those conditions?

He had lost track of time. With just a few rags on it, barefoot, she won’t survive in this cell. The pain held in captivity escapes uncontrollably over the body, it crushes him from inside just like serrated wheels. And the body becomes drunk from so much suffering. It is the moment from which the hours are not equal anymore.

The wreck is the sad word that comes first to my mind. My sight is stopped by faces full of circles. The wrinkles of the strangers here hit me like arrows, lighting up the darkness around me with imaginary torches. And I still do not see when back from absurdity pain returns. But I know it will come back and will come back to do what she knows best.

He had learned that darkness really does exist. It’s a notion you can’t describe in words. You find out that it exists because loneliness has a special way of tormenting people. Loneliness can itself become a skill. If you sand loneliness, it can turn into wisdom.

He kissed a wish on its wings like two lips that did not say words. He left desire free in the vortex of chance and good inspiration. For a few days, he probably walked through the wheat fields, because he returned smelling of fresh bread.

There is a labyrinth of atonement, a form of transition between two states, it is only a step, the hardest step, which desire has finally made. In the end, the desire never came back. He got where he needed to go.

Several people entered the cell. One of them addressed him saying that he is the director of the prison. The law obliges him to ask every convict, to say something he wants.

He didn’t think long and said he wanted a few pieces of cardboard and charcoal. He would like to draw. It was not long before he received what he had asked for.

Only a few days passed when cries were heard in the prison, alarm sirens began to sound, the howls and barks of the nearly fifty trained dogs.

Darkness will never be perfect.

The witch had escaped. In her cell, they found near the wall, cardboard on which was drawn with charcoal, a window.

Nothing was heard about the witch’s existence. And no one has seen her since.

No one has seen the judge before. In his bedroom, they found near the wall, the cardboard on which was drawn with charcoal, a dead man. His face could not be seen, because a steel mask was attached to his face; fastened to the back of his head with three locks.

Mention.

This story has been already published. The work has been revised and modified.