The burning.

The burning

By Saul Hudson

Religion had made a fool of Buck Morris. Religion and fear and the flawed belief they would never lie to him.

            She was a witch, the pastor warned.

            She had to atone for her sins if she was to ever be allowed through the pearly gates of heaven, the church warned.

            It was for the best, they said.

            So, after a series of long and painful deliberations, Buck Morris did what they assured him was the right thing and took her life in the name of all that was holy and blessed.

            Save the soul and kill the devil, they said.

            Amy Weller burnt; Amy Weller screamed, and Amy Weller was ushered by the righteous into the presence of God a repentant woman.

            There was nothing of the miraculous in the way she died, no hint of a dark heart or the spit and bile of sin. Only pain. Pain and the wide eyed stare of disbelief as the flames ate her up. Then, sometime before she died, Buck Morris ran.

Sometime in the night, he collapsed onto his back in the meadow, breathless, and watched smoke riddled clouds pass over his head as embers carried on the slight, summer breeze; popping like exploding fireflies above his head.

            He had been terribly deceived, he knew. He had seen nothing of the acclaimed witch or devilment in her charring, upturned face; only pain.

Oh, but how she had screamed. How she begged.

He doubted he would ever forget those things.

He supposed those things would live with him for the rest of his life.

            Eyes fixed skyward, his heart in turmoil, he waited. It would take a considerable amount of time before he could bring himself to face them again, knowing what he’d been led to believe. So he waited, and waited, and waited ... oblivious to the black shape – like the shadow of the reaper himself – as it ambled, care-free, through the tall grass towards him, until it had settled one slightly boiled hand over his mouth.

            “Together,” a dry and cracked voiced cooed. “We deserve to be together.”

            Buck stared, wide-eyed and helpless, into the blistered, wet, face hovering above him – into her face. Her baked lips stretched and parted into a hideous jokers smile. He screamed beneath her hand, but nobody, least of all the revelling jury to the east, heard his terror. A moment later, the world faded to black and was gone.