Friday, March 23, 2007

Time to leave

The villagers bayed and cheered as the balance rose. Once more the figure strapped to the other end disappeared beneath the duckweed covered surface.

The breath wouldn't last, the accused thought in resignation. This was the seventh time. Each submergence had been longer than the last. More taxing than the last. Or maybe it just felt that way? Whichever, this was the one, the unfortunate accused knew. The scant time above the pond's surface was barely enough to take even the shortest breath, never mind a lung full. This was the one. Would the Hellfires await?

Hellfire! That was it!

In the murky green depths, The Sign was made with fingers tied beneath the worn smooth wooden balance. Suddenly, the gloomy, pressing cold was replaced with a fierce light and an even fiercer heat. A deep breath was inhaled, taking in fire and sulfur and brimstone. The balance beneath hurtled skywards as internal organs blazed.

Those most curious at the pond's edge had already been flash burned when the water boiled instantaneously into steam. The rest were frozen in shock and incredulousness. The witch was catapulted into the evening sky, the rope bonds had dissolved into ash. The exhalation of Hell from the witch's lungs rained down on the remaining villagers, immolating them where they stood, transfixed and now aflame.

As the charring flesh crawled back on itself, the consciousness inhabiting the body translocated in vain. Desperately searching for a suitable host.


Fortunately, the 'Tower was down during the inversion...

13 comments:

  1. Why must you do this to us? The waiting is painful and hard to bear. The rest of the story! Now! Faugh!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I second the fifth floor's motion!

    What happens next?

    That's the curse of being a storyteller. We all want to know more more more now now now!

    ReplyDelete
  3. IDVeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....drunk. Thta'as what I am and I want to tell you, because you reciprocate with drunken postings which amuse me so. But it's what, um, 6:30 in Britland, which makes me worse than I am , it's 1:36 here. Drunk on vodka, not my friend. Poor old rum, i have forsaken thee. Water, I need water and a good sleep.

    Carry on.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Here, just for you two, Fifthy and T-Bird, is part 2: Hello! * waves *

    I hadn't planned a part two. This was just something I remembered. I don't even know if the memory's mine. If it's not how I got here, then it might be that silly moo who spread herself over the latter half of the 20th century. Although, if she only took her consciousness, there would've been nothing to collide with the VIP transport from 2261...

    Lawks! Perhaps it is my memory?

    Dinah, you sozzled old sop! I do love our drunkeness. I might give it a go tonight!
    Sleep well. May your hangover shrivel and die before it manages to crawl inside you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Remember that I'll document every episode of your drunkenness from now 'til eternity.

    ReplyDelete
  6. *takes another Valium*

    *farts*

    *departs*

    ReplyDelete
  7. I love reading of all the villagers dying. Happy endings are my favourites.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Well, they deserved it. Useless morons.

    ReplyDelete
  9. For some strange reason, I read that to the tune of Invalid Litter Department by At The Drive-In. Worked quite well! If you don't know the song, I assume the vid os on youtube.

    ReplyDelete
  10. People often scoff at these witch tests. Work everytime in my experience.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Do you live in Bridport as well?

    ReplyDelete