Witch, witch, you’re a witch!
NATHALIE BEULAH. In the darkness of the night the angry mob had come. They shouted their poisonous accusations, chanting into the night “Witch! Witch! Witch!” The more she had tried to protest her innocence, the less they seemed to hear her. Only one thing would appease the rage of the crowd… her death. Now trapped within her own home by the murderous mob, a cold, hard fear seemed to grip her very soul. The black smoke began to fill the room and she watched as the orange flames licked the walls. Her family was still asleep in their beds. She wouldn’t wake them to face this death. Her final act would be to say a prayer that they would not feel pain as they burned in their beds. She knew no help would be coming. You might think by reading this that I was writing about something that would have happened sometime between the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries, a time many of us know as “The Burning Times”. You would be wrong, may I suggest you think more recently, say 2012.