The Witch
Lisbeth had been staring out of the small window at the back of her house all afternoon, the same window she had used as a means of escape just two nights before. She knew that the Reverend Thompson had taken a small party out into the woods that morning. The disagreement that the two of them had on the edge of the woods had no doubt caused him great concern; but, being the coward that he was, there was no way that he would venture out beyond the trees alone. Lisbeth felt almost serene when she thought of the mischief that the Reverend and his meddling mob would bring home with them from their enchanting encounter with Eris. She knew that she was damned beyond hope if she left her fate in the hands of her neighbors and fellow townspeople. If they would come for her clever mother, quiet father, and precocious siblings with no tangible evidence of their wrongdoings, if they would rip a wailing infant from her neighbor Sarah’s kind arms and deny little Abigail the modicum of comfort she found in a corn husk doll, there would truly be no hope for her by the consummation of this madness. The pact she had made with Eris would quicken her calamity, but at least then she knew what and who was coming for her. She was certain she could face the end bravely if the pious pharisees who brought absolute bedlam to her life and the life of those she loved would experience the fear and confusion that they had imposed on others.
No sooner had she thought of their impending shame did she see the group come bounding through the trees, heading straight for the town. As they made their way, they knocked on every door and every window they could reach, cheering and chanting along the way to gather people in the square in the middle of town. They linked together, arm in arm, with anyone they passed on the street, instructing them to round up anyone else that they did not see already congregating with them. Instead of a sense of alarm, they brought with them a sense of impulsive elation, as if they had imbibed pure joy to the point of absolute inebriation, and still had plenty left in the bottle to share. They giggled gleefully, joining hands with others and spinning in circles, creating a dance to the buzz of anticipation that was hanging in the air. Their delight was contagious, spreading a sense of relief throughout the crowd. It was a feeling that had been all but forgotten in recent months.
As the members of the wilderness epiphany began to explain to small groups around them what they had witnessed, the Reverend Thompson took his place before the crowd. His eyes were unblinking, almost lidless, in euphoria. The corners of his mouth were drawn back in such a broad smile that he almost appeared to be in pain. The truth that he had found amongst the trees was one of absolute freedom. The cost was simple, the reward was grand, and there was no need to wait until the afterlife to fully enjoy the bounty that was set before them.
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The sun was retreating behind the hills, but the celebration was far from over. A bonfire had been started in the square, and there was no sign that the crowd would be scattering any time soon. Thoughts of night time prayers and early morning chores had been completely ignored, and entire families forgot that their dinners were still sitting on their tables, abandoned for the fullness of the promises set before them. The whole crowd was singing together in one breathtaking chorus, not needing words to pledge their devotion to the disorder that had derailed their evening.
As the town rejoiced in the freedom and chaos of Eris and her power, the Reverend Thompson’s smile began to fade. No longer did he need to keep track of the white lies he had told in service of his station. No longer was he responsible for investigating every dark corner where evil might reside. But if he were no longer responsible for tending this flock, what would keep them together? What need would they have of him? What would govern their actions? He had found throughout his tenure as reverend, both to his surprise and depraved delight, that fear was the thing that best kept people in their place. If he allowed fear to be removed, it would not be long until the people realized that he was the one who had been urging their uneasiness and tending to their trepidation all along.
He must undo this dizzying indiscretion at once. Someone must be held responsible for the deviation from the Divine that he was witnessing before his very eyes. This curse must be broken. But how? Eris was unknowable, untraceable. She was both a voice on the wind, and the air in their lungs. She surrounded them, yet could not be seen. How could he untether himself from her power?
…Lisbeth.
