Chapter 7

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Delia cries out as they tie her hands to the wooden stake behind her.

“DIE, WITCH!” yells a man in the crowd. “KILLER!” yells another. The town square is full of people who want to watch her burn.

“No. You’ve got it all wrong,” she tries to explain, tears falling from her eyes. “I’m just a healer! That’s all!”

“LIAR!” screams an angry woman, throwing a tomato.

It splatters on Delia’s face, then falls onto the wooden pyre. Another one hits her stomach, then another, staining her grey dress red. “PLEASE! Listen to me!” She yells.

“WE DON’T WANNA HEAR ANY MORE OF YOUR LIES, WITCH!”

An old man walks up to the front of the pyre, placing small sticks and straw all around Delia’s feet. As he does so, he mumbles to himself. It’s barely audible, but Delia can’t ignore it. “Curse the witch that brought us pain. Curse the witch, be in thy name. Burn the bitch, and kill her here. Make her scream, for all to hear.” Over and over he repeats the same thing as he covers her feet with straw.

Delia’s face turns cold. She watches the crowd of villagers, all full of rage as they scream at her. She sees a flame being carried over to the pyre.

The man stands in front of her, holding the torch. He faces the crowd. “Delia Crowley, you are accused of practicing witchcraft. Do you admit your guilt?”

Her eyes curse the man. “No.” She looks at the faces around her. “But no matter what I say, you have already made up your mind.”

A voice rings out from the crowd, “DON’T TRY YOUR LITTLE TRICKS WITH US! HURRY UP! BURN HER!” The rest of the crowd joins in, cursing and swearing at the tied-up woman. 

The man with the torch turns to Delia. “The people judge you guilty. You are hereby sentenced to death by fire.” He lowers the torch, touching it to the stack of straw and sticks beneath her feet. As it catches, he throws the torch onto the pyre, setting it ablaze.

She feels the warmth from the flames as they creep toward her. Her feet start to burn, but her eyes stay cold. She looks over the crowd and whispers, “pigs.” Her eyes close as the fire grows, engulfing her in its heat.

Cheers are heard throughout the square. 

One man stops yelling. He points at the fire. “Look!”

The corners of her lips curl upward as her eyes open slowly, a sound of maniacal laughter roaring from the flames. Her clothing and restraints all burned away, she steps forward. The light from the fire shines on her skin, her beauty revealed for all to see.

The crowd grows silent. Some drop to their knees in prayer while others freeze with fear.

Delia raises her arms, smiling. “For the sin of burning a witch, I judge you guilty.” She claps her hands together, creating a black smoke that swallows the crowd. “I sentence you to death.”