Joan in the Stake.
Chiamaka Eze@chiamakaeze425179
1 year ago
We arrive the stake and are met by two men, each bearing lit torches on each side of a carefully set up stake. Meredith's screams are no where within my earshot.
They give a light nod and the Reverend spares one in return.
The men who were on both sides of the Reverend approach me. Their eyes linger on me and I hasten to say with a whisper “I am not a witch”. My voice feels distant, like it belongs to someone else.
Hot tears pool my eyes and begin to drop, wetting my cheeks in their wake.
They hesitate for a while and I push on “This is not true. I am not a witch. Please listen —”
“Manipulation, my dear friends, is the devil's strongest weapon against the weak. Don't let it deter you from the greater cause. Pay the devil no mind. She is a witch brethren, the devil's advocate in our very midst, and we shall burn the witch,” the Reverend's voice boom from the front.
Hands begin to work tirelessly on me. The twine gets unwound from me and I catch sight of thorn prickling one of the men's thumb, letting a trickle of blood flow down his hand but that doesn't stop him.
The twine drop from my body and I feel blood flow through my hands. I rub the holes in my arms and smear blood with my palm.
“I am not a witch. I promise you, I am not. I swear to God, to our God, that I am not. Please listen to me,” mucus shoot out my nose as I scream at the top of my voice, facing the people.
Their “Burn the witch!” drone me out and it takes everything within me not to curl up on the ground.
I twist and turn as I am bundled to the stake, screaming my way there with my dry, burning throat.
“I am not a witch! God knows I am not!” I scream even as my hands get tied to the stake, tears pouring down my face and my smock sticking to my perspiring body.
The Reverend walk up to me ever so slowly consumed in a self-assurance that shock me as everyone move back.
“Even God can not save you now dear Joan,” his eyes are on my lips as he whispers this.
I stop my screaming and stare at his face, my stomach acids boiling my insides.
With everything in me, I cough up phlegm and spit it on his face causing him to jerk his eyes wide open to mine.
For a moment his lips quaver then they stop.
His eyes no longer wide, warm up then crinkle at the sides as his smirk return and he wipes his face clean with the sleeve of his black shirt.
He leans in closer to my face and I perceive the intoxicating waft of incense as he whispers “I hope you burn in hell”. With that, he steps away from me and I imagine how his heart must be just as black as his shirt.
With his fingers, he gestures and men scuttle towards me.
They plant woods all around me, caging me in as they bind the woods together above me.
I hear the pouring of liquid and feel a wave of nausea as the pungent smell of pitch hit me.
“No! Please don't! I'm not a —” I stop screaming when a drop of pitch meet the top of my feet, burning it.
The man circling me with pitch completes his cycle and at this moment, I know I can do no more than accept this fate.
I close my eyes and sob, tears slipping through.
“Our Lord's prayer!” the Reverend shouts.
The crowd's chorused “Our father, who art in heaven …” is the response that follows.
I open my eyes just in time to see a torch get flung to the foot of my wooden cage and people receding, their chants becoming a hum.
The pitch catches fire which instantly surround me. The fire flare up the woods and catch the end of my smock.
I stump my feet hard on the ground, swaying around the wood I am tied to and successfully put out the fire.
I feel heat consume every inch of my body and my heartbeat fill my ears as I hear the crackle of wood above me. I look up to find fire reaching down towards my bound wrists.
I vigorously rub the twine binding my wrists up and down the wood I'm tired to, praying to God it weakens.
Fire teasingly creep down and I stretch myself out away from the wood and continue my rubbing. It catches the twine and I feel my wrists warming up.
Forcefully, I pull my hands from the blazing wood feeling a sharp burn course through my wrists.
The fire threaten to race up the sleeves of my smock and I pull harder, stifling a cry.
The twine snap with a force that pushes me against the wood behind me. The burn I feel make me jump away from it.
I massage my wrists as I plan an escape with the fire around me heating me up.
I bang on my flaming wooden cage and my hands sear.
Smoke envelop me and I'm thrown into a fit of coughing. The smoke burn my lungs, cutting my breathing as I inhale.
I sway and sink to my knees, palms splayed over the burning ground.
There's a fleeting crack that draws my attention.
I stare through the gaps in the hair matted to my face in the direction of the crack just as it becomes louder and see broken smouldering woods launch at me.
At the last minute, I hunch over letting the woods hit my back.
I lurch forward as air gets knocked out of me and yelp when my back burn.
Tears fall profusely from my eyes and hopelessness weaken me to fall with my back to the baking ground.
For a stunned moment, I'm staring at the inky sky with stars sprinkled all over it; thinking nothing of it.
All of sudden, something clicks inside me and I immediately scramble to my feet, swaying a little from the dizzy spells that overcome me.
I frantically wipe my tears away as I inspect the space between the woods in front of me.
Some wood from my cage had broken off, creating a large gap above me and an escape route.
The thought tickles me and I feel hope swell within me like Helen's banana bread in her rusty oven.
I rush to the wood cage, banging on it with a newly found strength as fire blaze around my sweating being.
I bang harder and shards of wood fall apart to the outside of my cage, widening the gap.
Smoke begin to seep through my nostrils and I have to stop for breath, coughs escaping my mouth from my attempts.
I kick the wood continuously and it falls slowly outwards just as I'm about to give up.
This creates a fiery path outside my cage which I take advantage of.
I skip through the burning path and fall on the cool ground, rolling around to quench the burn I feel everywhere, not forgetting to inhale deeply.
Mid roll I pause, my pulse slow as I hold my breath and break out into cold sweat.
I listen for a ruckus but there are none — no chants or shouts or stamps of feet in the background. I loudly exhale.
Tears roll and I give out a croaky laugh as I stare at the blazing stake.
Relief washes over me and I make my way up.
Limping, I head to no where in particular in the moonless night.
#Nircle_stories
#fiction
#story_writing
#content_creation
𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 #𝑁𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒_𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 #𝑁𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒_𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑠 ...
𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦? — 𝐼'𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 "𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑! 😃" 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒.
𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑱𝒐𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦.
𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ... 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦. 🤭
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛
𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ... 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦.
