burn the witch

"I need more fluids. Some one get me more fluids, the patient is fading" I heard Eleanor shouting beside me.

"Don't let me die" The man begs of me as he grabs my hand, staring deeply into my eyes. Pity and sorrow fill my soul when I look at his sickly face.

The man coughs and blood spews from his

mouth covering his face with splatter. The blisters and sores on his face were oozing. There was no saving this man. He was going to die.

"Please" He grabbed my hand begging me. I have a family to care for.

My heart ached for him, I knew all to well what is was like losing your father to the plague, it's why I became a doctor to help. The plague had been spreading rapidly through Europe.

I try to remove the mans hand and get up to to make him more pain meds, but his grip loosened and his hand fell beside him.

I watched as the last of his life drained from his eyes and a glaze set over them. The light of life from inside him had been stifled and he died right before me.

I sobbed. Another life ended to soon.

"Open up, we have a warrant from the lord to arrest a witch." A man yelled while banging on the door.

"There's no witch here, only people dying of the plague and people helping those who are dying." Eleanor shouted beside me.

"I won't ask nicely again, open up." The man yelled from outside.

I look over at Eleanor and her face was full of terror and dread.

The soldiers were here to arrest us for witchcraft, a crime punishable by death in England.

After a moment of silence they kicked the door down and barreled in, one after another surrounding us.

"Stay where you are and don't move witches.

You'll pay for spreading the plague to innocent people." One man said spitting on the ground.

Surrounded by sick men and women they

quickly move to arrest us.

"Take them and burn the place, leave no trace of their devilry and free these peoples souls from being taken down the path of damnation." The man who'd been speaking behind the door said.

The man grabbed m by the back of head by my hair and jerks me upward. The pain cause me to scream out.

"I'm not a witch, I just use the same herbs you to cook with to make medicine."

"Sounds like potion making to me, is that a confession witch?" He yelled into my face, bits of spit spraying on me. His teeth looked awful and his breath was rancid.

"No it's not a confession!" I yelled.

They dragged me and Eleanor at of the house kicking and screaming and then set the house on fire burning all those sick people alive inside.

"Noooo! How can you call yourselves human! They were just sick people in their and you murdered them. You murderers!"

The man walking next to me, whom I presume is the leader, holding me by my hair, punched me in the mouth.

Blood started to trickle down my lip, throbbing in pain immediately, but I refused to let them see my tears. I spit the blood out my mouth.

"You're lucky I'm not a witch or I'd have killed you. Scum."

"Shut the fuck up witch." We're the last words I heard before he punched me again.

I was in and out of consciousness, in some waking moments, I could see the guards around me, their pants around their ankles.

"Look at this pretty red haired little witch. I love the days I'm on guard in this cell block, this ones always my favorite."

Grabbing me by my hair he pushes my face down rubbing it against the cobblestone floor. Pulling down my panties and lifting up my skirt, I felt his every touch, a violation against my womanhood.

Night after night they came to visit me.

I could sometimes feel their grimy hands rub all over me even hours after they left. I don't know how many days this went on but finally end was near, and I welcomed death. The sweet relief of death. The peace and serenity of heaven. Leaving this hellhole behind. Fall into Gods loving embrace. For He knows I am no witch.

*Splash*

Cold and wet, I'm awakened, roughly dragged from my cold damp cell. I haven't seen Eleanor in days. I can only hope she had it better than me.

I didn't have memory of the past few days but the evidence of my torture was displayed for everyone to see once I was dragged up to the stopper. I was covered in bruises and cuts and whip markings. The blood was stained to my skin, caked on legs and face. Every inch

of my body ached.

I was so weak I couldn't walk or stand.

They tied me to a wooden pillar.

Looking to my left I see Eleanor in the same condition as me. My heart lurched for her, to save her, stop her from being damned like me. It broke seeing her look like me, knowing what she must have endured during her time imprisoned. She had the same look on her face that I'm sure was on mine. Relief.

"These two women have confessed to witchcraft and are sentenced to burning at the stake." A well dressed man said loudly as he read from a piece of parchment. They stand accused of furthering and aiding in the spread of the plague. They were caught communing with the devil."

"To free their souls from the grasp of Satan we must purify them through fire. May god have mercy on their souls."

First they lit Eleanor, forcing to me to watch as her pyre ignited. Raging flames began consuming the hay and wood that sat underneath her, the heat blistering her skin. Eleanor screamed in agony as she was burned alive.

The crowd cheered and yelled "Burn her!"

"Go to hell Witch!"

"May god have mercy on your soul."

The I watched as Eleanor screamed her last scream. Her body blackened from char, the smell of her burnt flesh filled the air, ravaging anyone with a sense of smell.

I cry loudly, my whole body shaking from pain and rage. I'd never felt such heart wrenching pain before. It was an ache so fierce it caught my breathe. It was pure agony.

They lit my pyre. And I felt the heat rise from under my feet. I began sweating. I was ready to die. But not like this. I wasn't ready to be burned alive. I started to trash and scream as the flames began to rage around me. Setting my dress on fire, I could feel my flesh melting and hear this sizzle in my ears. Blisters formed on my arms. All I could do was scream, tears evaporated from my face before they could fall down my cheek. The flames finally engulf me entirely.

"Wake up, Seri, wake up."

What?

"Seri, you're having a bad nightmare, you have to wake up."

Is that Brooke talking to me?

"Ugh…" rubbing my eyes and wiping the sweat from my face. Another night soaking the bed with sweat. I went through like 4/5 sets of sheets a week. My heart was racing I was panting and coughing like I couldn't breathe and was being suffocated.

"Are you still having nightmares? I thought they stopped?" Brooke asked me.

"No. To be honest, they just got worse. That was the longest one I think I've ever had."

"What happened?" She asked me.

"I'll a joint and we can go outside and talk. Do me a favor, don't tell Josie. I don't want her to worry."

"I don't know if I can keep this from her, she's our best friend, she's supposed to worry about both of us. I'd be hurt if she didn't." Brooke answered.

"Please, it's already a lot having them, and I hate talking about them." I sighed.

I roll out of bed and head over to my art station, opening the short center drawer I pull out my tray and weed. And begin grinding, I was trying to make sense of being burned a live. These dreams were getting more and more real. My skin even feels hot still, like it was just burning. I roll the joint and grab the lighter.

"Ready? Grab some blanket's its cold outside."

"Yeah let's go." Brooke responds grabbing her blanket and me a blanket we head downstairs to the back door and on to the porch.

I take a seat on the porch swing with Brooke and light the joint.

"So what happened do you remember?" She

asked me.

"Yeah, I died, again. Just over and over and over. Some time deaths I've seen before sometimes new deaths." I took a deep breath and readied myself.

"I was burned alive this time. It was so real Brooke. Feel, my skins still hot." I rolled up my pajama pant leg and insisted she touch it.

"Oh my god Seri, you're burning up."

"I know… I was burned for being a witch, Brooke I was only trying to help sick and dying people. And they burned me for it." My eyes were wet from tears. My skin still tingled from the pain.

"This was my most intense dream yet. The most real." Brooke reached for a hug and I leaned in absorbing the comfort she was offering me.

"It's not real you know, you're alive and being a witch is a trend now." Brooke reassured me.

"Doesn't make the dream any less real for me. It was like I was there living it."

"I know baby, I know." Brooke soothed me by humming and rocking in the porch swing.

I smoked my joint, resting my head on her shoulder, making an attempt at relaxing and calming down.

"Are they always this bad?" Brooke asked quietly. Her voice delicate and careful.

"Lately, yeah. But this was the worst yet. Brooke I FELT the burn." I said, my lip was quivering, tears were swelling in my eyes. I was trying to blink them away, still some slid past falling down my cheeks leaving a warm wet stain behind. Brooke wraps her arm around me pulling me in tightly and rubs my head.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Shocked I sat up, going to take another hit I realize the joint had gone out.

"Thank you for what?" I ask sparking up again.

"For being vulnerable with me." She said wiping the tear stain on my cheek.