“Is it a signal?” she said softly, “or is it for us?” It is both, I thought in silence, this is to warn, and prepare. I took my friend’s hand and we walked away. We knew we were not wanted. The warning was clear. Everywhere we would go in the country, it would be the same, and one evening…
None of us was amnesiac. We knew full well how it would end. There was a long tradition. From time to time we would lit a bonfire, but most of the time the fires were lit to burn us. Us, witches.
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What we don’t understand, we choose to fear. Good one.
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Reblogged this on Sue Vincent's Daily Echo and commented:
First in this week…
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Well written and so intriguing!
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Sigh. T’was truth for too many. Witches or not … oy. Well done!
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Well done. It comes round full circle the last sentence bringing more to the first. I knew someone was in trouble but was still surprised by the end. And, yes, witches by many names, there’s always someone getting burned.
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