12 To become my witch

In another place filled with snow, a castle stands majestically on a great hill, surrounded by a frozen river in the west and mountains in the north, a forest in the south and a road in the east, all covered by snow, indicating of an extreme cold winter that still insist of staying, torturing those guards that are shivering in the cold while patrolling the surrounding, moving their legs in their places while standing for those who are supposed to stand put while others moving back and forth to makes themselves worm in the process.

Inside the castle however, only silence can be heard, no servants, no maids' workings, excepts for some candles with some lights flickering to sway away the darkness in the halls. Opposite to the noises outside this building, in the field that hold most of the training of the guards and knights, a lively atmosphere being held from servants and some guards and few nights, even peasants were allowed to be here, despite keeping their distances from others who held higher status than them, their eyes holds some anticipation and maybe gloating hiding in them toward the upcoming misfortune of others

In the center of this square field, a cross stand erect for all to witness, surrounded by a bunch of dry leaves and woods, and a women was being crucified there, with all her limps being held by cold nails in that block of woods, blood was oozed out from her delicate hands and elegant feats, with brouzes from the rocks that was being thrown at by her dedicate audience.

A middle-aged man sitting in his horse, not far away from her, all serious and dandy, with a hint of mockery in his eyes that he shose to reveal it carelessly looking at the haggard and miserable woman fighting hard to breath, and her eyes are still struggling to not close behind her long freezing hair that covered her face, while a few guards waiting with torches set in flames that gives worm to their holders in this cold weather.

All this resentment, gloating, petty and anger are delicious to me, I don't mind standing here enjoying the show wile bathing on these various emotions, it's the same to those who have sun bath or relaxing in some spa.

But the woman, even a senseless thing like me, still enjoy her weathering beauty that is socked with blood and scars, forming a kind of tragedy yet stunning painting that is full of agony and life by her struggle to keep her little breath going subconsciously even if she show to this public her resignation in frond of death that his image I stole to play his role to serve my selfish desire.

As I walk forward in her direction, I sent some of the dark obsession that still linger around me that still raw and filthy toward that girl, I can see her head start bulking with vines and her eyes are nearly come out of her sockets, with a bit of foam in hemouth, the stuff I send her even if it a bit, was compose of thousands of dark thoughts that effect the hearer spirit and mind, no wonder her body will act like this, especially with her current condition.

So i better strike the iron while its hot then, I walked or fazed near her and touch her still pitiful yet gorgeous face with my scythe and said in a wespering voice" if you wand to live and take revenge, nod your head, or Die" .

With her still body that stops twisting a few second ago after feeling my scythe on her face that I allowed her to feel plus hearing my voice, her misty eyes that sees no more than despaired cleared a bit and said with all her strength "wh…what d..o you wa..t?".

What she didn't expect that the answer that she waits to hear never come but Inside her mind he talked with thundering voice that gives her unexpectedly some warmth " To become my witch" he said it like there no room for refusal and so she nodded while hearing his second phrase "… and take your revenge"…and then everything darkened and before even think of feeling anxious she passed out.