Birth of the Word Witch
What say you naive with all your poultice,
foolish fervor to your reverie!?”
“Mark me damned but you better hope I die,”
otherwise I’ll be peeling your hide,
from bone reverend!”
“Away with you witch!” “Burn her!”
“Yeah!” “Kill the witch”
Chain taught around the ancient tree,
wrapped its trunk and my hand feet and throat,
it alone was taking my breath from me,
nude exposed for this foul rustic society cult.
Sheep to the shepherds lies,
his sins, not I.
He comes close to give me last rights,
I spit in his face, splat perfect in his eye.
Vein permeated his forehead eye to eye,
a backhand send blood a trickle, red dye.
He will pay for this I swear it,
“God will not forgive you for this crime!”
“I may burn now ye pig but you’ll burn forever!”
He closed in close to whisper a secret,
shattered my demeanor,
his nostril a large whiff to drink me in,
“I just love to watch,
you suffer whore!
Scream for me,
loud so your fake god can save you,
you looked surprised, wait till the flames,
lick your flesh from you bone. Hahahaha.”
Grasping a torch he tosses it at my feet,
the heat is immense the pain aaaaahhh!
My flesh bubbles as I wail and ribbon,
plea kill me make it stop make it stop!
Plea-
Half my body still burnt and smoking,
but the pain was gone, thanking,
something, approaching…
Drained I looked up to a being a mask,
all white with a top hat all black,
suit and eyes covered by the mask fabric.
I could see a faint red glow within,
silver toothy grin and lips missing.
This was no good deity by appearance.
Eyes look the crowd, froze in suspension.
“Do you wish vengeance my dear,
to strike fear?
Witches don’t exist but this I will grant,
first of your kind, just a little wag and pant,
Small Gaunt Belle Geste..”
“Do I have a choice…? Look at me!?”
He stared for a moment and stepped,
close voice low and dangerous,
“I want their blood, all of them,
children too, are you up to the task,
or you want to get back to your pyre?”
“Aye how am I supposed to do that?”
He snapped his fingers the chains broke,
he lifted head and I nodded, his hand lifts,
violet bolts shot into me, tendril of mist,
cyclones the plasma into my lips.
My flesh reanimates, and the horror,
a macabre tableau of wrath,
rage pain grotesque things on this,
crimson plateau commences.
I grasp a hatchet and start hacking,
man scream please stop I am sorry hacking!
baby in a bassinet coos hacking!
please no not the children hacking!
until I was scarlet painted, dipped in blood,
forged in crimson, me and the reverend.
He try’s to stammer, no reverend you die,
I point a finger and centipedes swarm,
bore tunnels and eat flesh from core,
pour out homemade pores, vile gore.
I never seen that creature again,
I left that village running, everyone dead,
Footfalls to echo every epoch,
cursed to live and die nevermore.
Copyright ©
Beatrix Macabre
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