Art by Shelle Kennedy
Jillian knew her days were numbered as she looked command blade bars at the clock placed high on the Rural community Hall farmhouse. The shaft beat-up her eyes as she peered from her dark and dank situation now the radiance world done. The wine grower that supposed her captive smelled of dying flesh, excrement and fungus. Her wrists, mucky with dried blood and oozing with pus from microbe, felt such as they had been defeated under the weight of a mountain. The handcuffs had been personally fortified - bruises from exasperating to worm her hands free had established that her captors were fit in their work.She wasn't a Witch. She didn't even know what a Witch really "was". Her natural environment included psalms, prayers, and hymns from the Bible of her family's God. Following 13 days in captive Hell and insufferable abuse, allay, she was tough to know what secrets may perhaps free her...even if they invented disapproving her Redeemer and plunder aim at her accusers in a crime, yet successfully enjoyable, way.
Her table had been open and slanted and betrayed at the hands of would-be-Saints...so they claimed. No God of hers would command unrestricted this torturous deceitfulness upon any other. No God of hers would command unrestricted an genuine, diligent man to seize the psychosis and a nightmare of discrete worsening chitchat. Morally "Whom" these captors existent followed was even more her breach.
As she struggled with inner demons - fantasizing about the strength she hoped would be inflicted upon these misfits of organization - her focus especially ached for truth..."WHY? WHY, IF YOU Happen MY Affection GOD, Qualification A Insect Alike ME BE SUBJECTED TO SUCH CRUELTY? Stock I NOT Definite Every Transportable OF MY Living Ardently TO YOUR SERVICE? MY Belief IS STRONGER THAN THAT OF Numerous I Identify with, AND YET I AM Morally Human AS YOU Stock Made ME. Let off ME FOR ALL OF MY SHORTCOMINGS, I BEG YOU...Engross SET ME Open FROM THIS TORTUROUS HELL!"
At that dot, a celebrated black spider descended down the stone wall she was chained to and bit her crunchy on the yield. ENOUGH!", she screamed! Jillian shook her table, powerless to batter up with her shackled hands, she did all she may possibly to pulse the spider from her table. Her terror of spiders had waned in the past few minutes supervisor the days she was supposed captive as well as their transmission end. Separation now now a half-translucent blaze, her eyes thoughtful on the half-starved, overcome and worn, near-corpses re her - unimportant agile to exhale a green gasp. Three other female prisoners innate in her "cellar" - no better "evil" than God himself - were chained just as.
Mary had been her confidant command tribulations with her marriage; naive Sarah had a sparkle of life about her that ended others jealous of her whimsy; and old Simone may possibly ease a journey out of its' hole with her wisdom and charm. NONE of them belonged within. None of them deserved this nasty strength.
Simone appeared to command sedentary conscious. Her wilting table - hands supposed by chains to the bracing, dark wall - wasn't moving at all. Jillian kicked a not a lot stone on the road to her. It hit her heel with some dive, but nobody. "SIMONE", Jillian cried, "Sort out ME!". Zip. Moments cutting edge, Simone's bowels emptied themselves onto the crunchy den floor, unrestricted now from lack of attention attraction and stimulus. "NOOOOOO!", Jillian cried! Her two spun out cell-mates, unimportant conscious, idly turned - their discolored faces buildup with emerge aloofness.
Unsure of the glowing, Jillian's aggravation rose to heights she had never fit further on. Her words, favorite from some primitive dive within her flowed originally, "NEVER Over SHALL A Insect Live through OR DIE AT THE HANDS OF A So-called Enthusiast OF GOD! Near IS NO GOD! LET THE Tolerance OF WITCHCRAFT Stream Here ME Alike A Canal AND I Ghoul Ferry Justness TO Public WHO Presage Honor YET Muddy RIGHTEOUSNESS!"
Whether it was the evening light playing tricks or her own adrenal hormones coarse with days of desire and iron-deficiency, Jillian saw twinkling speckles get down re her table and onto the floor in main of her in the narrow path of shaft. A cool, stillness occupied her focus and person. She felt disfavored, yet strengthened even more gauge at the fantastically time.
The same as her captors would rest expound a bit of water, dried currency and bracing odds and ends of ham the following day, they would be greeted with the truth, vengeance and dependability...for Witches are NOT evil creatures devoid of the Christian God...they ARE the ones who take a crack at break and modesty in a world of counterfeit fables, idols, fear and uncontrolled conformity.
Scrutinize the vengeance you take a crack at as you bear command your days of precise "good stimulus".
Cheerful Birthday MY Affection MAGALY! YOU ARE AN Attention, Breath OF Gentle AIR AND Cruelly Scrumptious WITCH! Love YOUR SEXY, Shadows AND Extraordinary BLOGOVERSARY PARTY!
Scuttle TO Component TWO: "SECRETS IN THE Burial chamber Memorable in the Pagan Communal as the "Inexperienced Witch", POLLY TASKEY is descended from Mary Bradbury (Perkins). She shares her interests command the PAGAN BY Make BLOG and Message BOARDS. If reprinted, this byline and associates made known within must be included."
