A nice prompt from Julia at http://www.juliasplace.org.uk this week that I’ve interpreted darkly, as I often do. ‘… the flames leapt skyward.’ Here’s my take:
People brought a picnic with them. They milled around, waiting. Salem had burned three witches that I could remember, and I’m only ten now.
She was just old Mrs Groat to me. But the townsfolk must have seen something witchy about her that I didn’t. They took her, bound her, watched her. And as the flames leapt skyward, some said they heard her speak. ‘Bugger this, I’m off.’
Martha Gray said she saw a small black cat streak out of the pyre.
I kept quiet. Tiddles had followed me from home.
There was a lot of ash for a witch.