_ P H O T O S T O R I E S _______________________
BURN THE WITCH
The foul creature has left me with the promise that my sentence shall be carried out at dusk. I am then to stay here, a prisoner to evil, with death in the form of a pyre at my feet, until the sun is setting. I cry at my live as time wails away at a pace akin to standing still.
The sun is disappearing over the horizon, and true enough, the witch is back, a torch ahand.
She teases me with the torch, waving it so close to my body as to have me perspirate sweat and blood on my forehead. At least get it over with, foul wench, and quit this game. It is my life you're playing with!
This is it then. The torture of waiting for my end, all day, tied to a tree in the middle of a desolate field, at the edge of a repudedly haunted forest, has passed. The kindling is already blazing with flames. Haunted this forest shall be for definate once this final stage is over.
The heat has numbed my senses, and although I see the fire grasping for my clothes and my soft flesh underneath, I fail to feel any pain. I see myself coughing from the choking smoke and feel my toes shuffle. Is the agony yet to come or shall my death come easily?
I have hoped to quickly. Already I feel the leather of my boots burn into my feet, and I can follow the message of pain my nerves are sending towards my brain as if it were running in slow-motion. In but in instant I shall indeed writhe in agony.
I hear myself mutter a subdued 'Help...'"
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