Bad Omen: The Plagued Witch
The Poor Woman Who Possesses the Omen Centuries Ago...
A long, long ago in Aktem,
The plague ravaged Europe, killing millions.
Hysteria merged with the illness, like from fleas to mice to humans.
A young lady, Genivere, was infected by the plague, but in a different way–
she was internally ‘free’ of sickness; however, she could instantly spread it by touch!
She hid, afraid to sicken anyone else, yet she was caught and brought to trial.
-----
“Citizens of Aktem, God has exposed the devil’s craft!
Today, this woman is here for going against God’s law!
A vile creature is inside of her- a demon!
It creates rot in the flesh and spreads!
Almighty God, she is a witch! We shall set fire upon her,
to smite the devil’s wrath.”
-----
The roars of the executioner and shouts of the crowd.
Why did it have to end this way?
I am human– I possess emotions, wills, and reason.
Pain bestowed me with the gift of the reaper’s touch.
Plague trails everywhere I go,
Why was I the bringer of death?
-----
O’ Archangel Michael, help thee.
Lord the Great, please emerge from the skies, the Heavens above!
I confessed my sins to what I’ve done;
however, the Black Death keeps spreading from my fingertips.
Nature is not spared from this black halo.
I’m losing everyone I know and love.
-----
“Our people have judged, and so did God.
Sorcery shall condemn you to the depths of Hell.
Their indulgence and confessions unveil falsehood in prayer.
Heathens are God’s traitors; you don’t belong in Heaven!
Lady Genivere, for any final words to testify,
let God have mercy on thy soul!”
-----
“I pray to seek the Lord for forgiveness.
My pity, burdens, sorrow, and grief–
I mourn for Aktem.
From the loss of Lady Penelope, my dearest sister,
and watching what I love vanished into blackness.
I long for a blessing and prayer to cure thee of this hex!”
-----
The cries of the crowded transit into a celebration, rooting
for execution! Hopelessness aches in my heart.
While the fire escalates the heat,
I can feel the gates of Hell opening up against my skin. No…
I long to be with my loving sister again in Heaven– faith has forsaken thee;
I, “the Plagued Witch,” will be dying alone.
-----
The people believed it would end the plague in their city
with the witch gone,
but they thought wrong.
They tossed her body into the ditches of the infected.
It is unknown where Genivere’s soul has gone.
She could be in Heaven, Hell, or anyone’s body. It never leaves her alone.
About the Creator
Ace Melee
Hello, everyone! Creative writing is an essential asset for me since it frees my imagination from getting hit by the barrier of the skull. It hurts when it's locked in and roars when oppressed- it was destined to soar.
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3:00 AM Challenge Winners
B. A. Durham’s False Memories blends dream and reality in a seamless mix. As his father, afflicted by Alzheimer’s, fades away, the narrator is haunted by a dream that may be a memory, returning to him insistently. The piece is full of wonderful detail (the father touching his lip where once there was a mustache, “but now he is clean-shaven—he has been for years” — and moving in revealing the complexities of a family’s life. A worthy winner which shows the power of dreams to influence us.
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Comments (3)
Your poetry is a testament to the human experience
So ominous, hopeless & despairing. And those final words, "It never leaves her alone." Reminiscent of "The Ring"--"She never sleeps."
This was so sad. My heart broke for Genivere 🥺