The Burning Witch

"So you’re not offended by this,” said the imperial mage to his female colleague as they oversaw a village burn a witch at the stake.

"No that woman ate who knows how many children for who knows how long,” she said.  "honestly thinking I'd have sympathy just because we're both woman is kinda worse." Truly, this was for the best, Theresa thought to herself as she forced a calm, casual countenance. She turned away�"turned away from peeling flesh, helpless eyes�"and she stood in the shadows her heart heavy with sin. However, the screams refused to be ignored. They tore into her ears, commanded her muscles to rise and create goosebumps. The fire snipped and snapped in the precipice of her vision far out of reach, but inside a warmth pooled in her cheeks. She strode away from the puzzled imperial mage to piece together the rest of the plan.

When Theresa returned home to her husband, he asked, “Has it been done?”

“Yes, my love,” she said. “A shame land was wasted on her.”

The husband kissed her cheeks, and they rejoiced in the fortune of their success.

When they acquired the property of the witch that had been burned, and they were to spend their first night there, Theresa’s stomach became a stormy ocean. A weight dropped on her chest like humidity. She tried dousing her feelings with expensive wine after a grand dinner. She hoped it would christen the start of this new chapter�"their new wealth. Instead, that night she dreamed of blood and screams and shadows.

The dreadful sound of humming made Theresa wake.. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. A naked woman was painting something on the wooden walls. Seared flesh hung from gaping open wounds all over her back. There were patches of hair on her head as she hummed. Red letters stared forward: Burn the Witch.

Theresa roused her husband. He woke and started to say something, but the woman whipped around. All of the flesh turned with her, making this nasty squish sound. She lifted a hand, and her husband screamed. His lips had been burned together.

Theresa trembled as every nerve in her body drowned in tension. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. “Please,” she begged, placing a hand over her stomach. “I am with child.”

As the woman stepped closer, Theresa realized she would not survive the night. As she woman stepped closer, Theresa smelled blood. It was then she realized the paint on the walls was the woman’s blood. She had been painting with her own blood those dreadful words. “Haven’t you heard the lie?” she said, her voice deep and dark. “I love the taste of children.”

Author's Note

The Salem Witch Trials was always about taking land. So, when this prompt came up, I had to emphasize that point.