Creative Writing Piece

"No."

It's funny to think that this one single, simplistic word, that I had uttered no less than thousands of times throughout my life, was to determine my fate. 

I could tell that they didn't believe me. No one did. They just stared at me like predators about to pounce on helpless prey. What was I to do? I was telling the truth, or at least I thought I was. This accusation had begun to play tricks on my mind and I couldn't help but wonder if it might possibly be true......

But no. It couldn't be. I wasn't what they said I was. I knew I wasn't one of 'THEM'. 

As countless thoughts hurtled through my head, I barely realised the two men approaching. They grabbed me by my arms and tugged me up. 

'I'm innocent' I uttered, unheard. How could I prove myself? Here was the problem; I couldn't. 

They were leading me towards the door now. I turned my head to see that not one eye in the crowd had moved. They were all still looking, their icy glares piercing through me, judging me, hating me. 

"Liar!" I could hear them screaming with their eyes. "Dirty Liar!" It hurt to see that the people I once knew and loved as friends had deserted me, distrusting me to the point of disgust. 

Along the dim corridor, my each struggling footstep echoing in the deafening silence, bringing back memories of my first day here.  They thrust me into the cell in the same way they did the first time; shamelessly, as if I were Saton himself. 

What was happening to Salem? It was as if some paranoia had gripped us in its fingers so firmly that we’d lost all sense of compassion. With friend turning on friend, and constant stories of misconceived identity weaving in and out of neighbourhoods, it wasn’t entirely surprising that no one knew what to believe anymore. And yet no one was willing to risk ignoring these rumours, knowing somewhere in the back of their minds that it all could well be true.

I can’t sleep knowing that this could be my last night. I think of all the things I have accomplished in my life. All the things I still want to accomplish. I think of my mother, the little woman with the tired face; yet still so incredibly loving. And my father, who I try so hard to remember but never can. All I know of him is a pocket-sized sketch my mother would always carry with her. She found the subject of him so very hard to talk about and so we simply didn’t.

As morning dawns, the gloomy feeling all around sends a shiver through me. Will this be my last…..last ever………..

The paired footsteps sound along the corridor, causing my heart rate to gain speed. Without a word, the door to my cell is thrust open and I stand up immediately. They enter and one of them goes behind me and chains my hands together.

This is it.

They lead me along the corridor, through the doorway, down the steps and into the broad daylight. I can see the rope with the loop at the end, awaiting me.

What more could I have done? All I can think about is something my mother said to me when I was young. It was Christmas and she had had a little too much to drink, just like every year. Strange that I would think of it now. ‘When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you have plenty to watch” she had said. The mood was jolly when she said that but right now I couldn’t think of a less ‘jolly’ situation. Would I have plenty to watch? I myself didn’t know.

My feet carry me forward, drawing me nearer to my final destination.

I am now in front of the rope, cherishing my last minutes of life. I knew I was still hoping for a miracle but my time was running out. I couldn’t wait forever.

I am not a witch. The words swam through my heard faster and faster, blocking out my other thoughts. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I couldn’t contain it any longer. It was bubbling so violently inside me that I had to release it.

“ I AM NOT A WITCH!! I’M INNOCENT!!”

Silence. Only the morning bird found it’s voice to reply.