Categories > Original > Horror > Welcome to Barrensville
Prologue: Ashes to Ashes
0 reviewsA little girl is forced to watch her mother, accused of witchcraft, being brutally burned alive at the stake. Everybody is dead in the town. Why? Perhaps you'll find out later on in the story.
0Unrated
The solemn night began with a few sparks of fire and child-like laments originating from the growing throng.
The little girl watched with authentic horror as her mother burned at the stake, her skin peeling back like crisp plastic to replace elegant features with structural chalk-white bone. The bone eventually altered into ash.
Miss Hartley clasped the girl by her shoulder, silently urging her to avert eye contact, but for some reason she could not keep her eyes off of her mother's searing corpse. Flames swiveled in harmony with the wind, embers floating away like lost vessels, the only piece of her mother that still existed.
"What did she do?" The little girl cried out, finally taking in all the grief that had not washed away with the scattered embers, "what did she do so wrong?"
"Come along, dear."
She didn't budge, her cheeks glistening like newborn apples immersed in the morning dew.
The black curls that had been involuntarily released form the silken restraints were rebelliously moving against her pale neck like shadow snakes, gray eyes seeking justice in the flames, but down-cast when none could be found.
Even though the padding in her dress suppressed skin-to-skin contact, she could feel the coldness of the old woman's hand travel through her whole body, ensuing goose bumps to rise like rigged monsters along her spine.
Three women had been accused on the threshold of July; witchcraft was a serious offense. Now her mother was gone and nothing more was left for her to find solace.
**
Everybody was either dead or dying. Eugene didn't know where he was; the nondescript room was a dungeon of darkness, awaiting his pending death so it could at least allow a trickle of light through the barred windows. All was silent.
Blood was smeared on his face, tainted by a child's palm; his sanguine eyes were congealed shut. There was no hope for him... no hope for anybody.
A child's laughter was the last thing that rang through his ears before his mind abandoned the mutilated body to find a better home, playing right into the skeletal hands of Death himself.
The little girl watched with authentic horror as her mother burned at the stake, her skin peeling back like crisp plastic to replace elegant features with structural chalk-white bone. The bone eventually altered into ash.
Miss Hartley clasped the girl by her shoulder, silently urging her to avert eye contact, but for some reason she could not keep her eyes off of her mother's searing corpse. Flames swiveled in harmony with the wind, embers floating away like lost vessels, the only piece of her mother that still existed.
"What did she do?" The little girl cried out, finally taking in all the grief that had not washed away with the scattered embers, "what did she do so wrong?"
"Come along, dear."
She didn't budge, her cheeks glistening like newborn apples immersed in the morning dew.
The black curls that had been involuntarily released form the silken restraints were rebelliously moving against her pale neck like shadow snakes, gray eyes seeking justice in the flames, but down-cast when none could be found.
Even though the padding in her dress suppressed skin-to-skin contact, she could feel the coldness of the old woman's hand travel through her whole body, ensuing goose bumps to rise like rigged monsters along her spine.
Three women had been accused on the threshold of July; witchcraft was a serious offense. Now her mother was gone and nothing more was left for her to find solace.
**
Everybody was either dead or dying. Eugene didn't know where he was; the nondescript room was a dungeon of darkness, awaiting his pending death so it could at least allow a trickle of light through the barred windows. All was silent.
Blood was smeared on his face, tainted by a child's palm; his sanguine eyes were congealed shut. There was no hope for him... no hope for anybody.
A child's laughter was the last thing that rang through his ears before his mind abandoned the mutilated body to find a better home, playing right into the skeletal hands of Death himself.
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