About the Author: Cierra Mincher (Creative Writing, Class of 2017) writes all the time when inspiration takes hold, which could be found anywhere and everywhere. She writes short stories, poems, and creative fiction from observances of everyday life.  She is currently enrolled in SVC’s Shires Press Publishing Program to publish her first book through the Northshire Bookstore in May of 2017. She is hoping to continue on this path of writing and become a famous author someday.

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Beginning of Sin

Cierra Mincher

“You will hang for your indiscretions!” the farmer screamed.

The women could hear each townsperson as they sputtered their hateful words.

“Hang witches!” the town butcher hollered.

Each of the young women stood on a chair, atop a wooden platform.

“Stop casting your evil spells! No more dancing around fires!” a father spat out.

Their bare toes pressed down on the grainy wood beneath them.

“We will rid ourselves of you!” the housewife cried.

Their skin was light and creamy. Each of their eyes were closed as if they were sleeping, lightly shut with their eyelashes caressing the skin. Their mouths were closed, their pink colored lips pressed softly together. They each had dark wavy hair that hung freely at their shoulders under the heavy rope around their necks.

The ends of their hair blew softly in the wind that rushed against them. Their white dresses pressed against them, outlining their frames. Soft blue and purple flowers were stamped onto the dresses. Lace trimmed at the bottom that hung about half an inch off the dress and also topped the dress outlining the small triangles that covered their breasts.

The rope hung heavy at their necks. It was yet to be tied tightly around them. The rope was hard and scratchy on their skin and they could feel the pull as it hung from the beams above them.

When the priest came around to tighten the ropes at the top of their throat, they easily stood on their tiptoes. The tension between where the rope began to where it ended down at their necks had increased, but still the women remained calm. The wind continued to blow against them, a soft breeze in the heat of the summer. The sun had been blocked by soft white clouds as the women had been pulled up onto each platform, a different man standing beside each chair.

And then the priest began, “Heavenly father, forgive these sinners for their transgressions and the evil spirits that live inside them. These women have wandered from the beaten path and must be punished! We have seen them dance around the fires whilst chanting! We have seen them cast spells and send curses upon us! These acts cannot continue here!

“We have offered them a chance to repent but they refuse; they remain silent! They will not commit to a penance, they will not speak to us. Heavenly Father, there is no choice here. We wish not to hear their voice! We wish to be safe, and for our children to wander freely in the land without fear of witches! We must vanquish this devil before he grabs permanent hold! Forgive these sinners for their ways and cast the devil out of them as they hang from this rope!”

As the priest finished, each of the women opened their eyes and looked out at the crowd of people. The priest bowed his head down, and made the sign of the cross on his chest before looking back up. He walked to the front of the platform on the far left and looked at each of the men that stood beside the chairs. He turned to the women, who stood still, continuing to look out into the crowd. The priest nodded and with swift movements, each of the men kicked the chairs from beneath the women.

The crowd was quiet as the chairs fell down beneath the women. The rope tightened and the women dropped from their place. The crowd expected the women to catch on the rope, the tension holding them in the air, shaking and writhing until the last puff of oxygen escaped their lips. They would have gone still then, swinging slowly back and forth in the wind: dead.

Instead the women dropped down from the chairs and flat onto the wooden platform beneath them as each beam snapped in half suddenly, as if it had been severed with an axe. They stood still for a moment looking back and forth at each other before jumping down from the platform; three feet down to the grassy ground. When they landed, the crowd took a collective step away from them. A woman shrieked out in the crowd and the priest came running forward as the three women walked to each other’s side.

The priest stepped in front of them, holding his black leather bound bible out in front of

him. The women stood still, looking at him; their blue eyes piercing his skin.

“You couldn’t have gotten down!” he screamed out in astonishment, before glancing behind him at the crowd. He took a deep breath and looked back at the women and begged, “Daughters, please, repent and the Lord will open his arms to you!”

The women looked back and forth at each other. They remained silent and the priest continued.

“He will forgive your sins! He will welcome you into his saving graces! You mustn’t continue! We will hang you up again.”

A woman yelled out to hang them up and some of the braver townspeople began trudging forward to grab the women.

The priest tried to hold the oncoming people back, “Sons and daughters! Let them repent for their sins, if they can ask for forgiveness.” The priest glanced back at the women before him and pleaded, “What do you ask of the Lord?”

They looked at each other and smiled. The edges of their smiles were sharp and their eyes were full of mystery and madness. The devil had awakened inside of them. As they turned toward the crowd and opened their mouths, they spoke softly, but the prick of their words flew from their tongues.

“Forgive us Father, for we are about to sin…”

Copyright © Cierra Mincher (2016) All Rights Reserved.