Righteousness for Salem

“My son is dead and the crow caws

This dreaded morning scene!

A fell sense is pleased, no doubt

A witch doth lives here among us

And we must see her to a beastly death deserved!”

The crowd mob whispers forming hate

And relinquishing all desires of thoughtfulness

To fit the growing hysteria of witch hunting

“Her blood shall exchange for mine own!

Her life returned to the demigod

Of fire and death she doth serve

For the ghastly spell cast to rot my child’s flesh

To bone she shall pay by

Burning At the Stake of Mine Own Hands!”

The crowd mob heightens its enthusiasm

By drastic measures at the words

Of blood, death, and flesh.

“Let the ravenous take hold thee all

Of the same measure we shall cast the she witch!

Grasp thine pitchfork and flame for hunting.

Think not our aims wrong, but justifying,

For evil must be dealt with of her own!” 

The crowd mob is led to a small witch hut

Where inside lives a lonely hagrid outcast

Thrice warned to leave the village and thrice ignored.

“Did I not warn of this witch?

Now a child, of mine own flesh is dead,

Having died of the worst infectious disease

Not common in these parts of natural occurrence.

Thrice warned witch!  Now thrice the death

That will be dealt unto thee!

The father goes to the witch and strikes a powerful blow.

The witch falls unto a splintering table

The crowd mob grabs and drags the witch

Into the center of town tangled in ropes

Around the wrists, ankles, waist, and neck

Chaffing raw sores to blood drops

Falling unto the cold barren earth.

“Raise the stake son” calls the father

To the survived brother equally maimed in hate.

A stake is raised in the core of fig, oak, and maple branches

The witch is tied to the stake with the intense hands

Of many mob village folk.

A branch is lit and all wait to see the death

And hear the screams of the evil they subdued.

“Your reign of evil is ended

By the hands of one father now without a son

Of your doing!

Tell me how death feels upon thee

Thou who taketh such elation in suffering!”

Suddenly the witch turns her head to the father

Staring with a great force behind her eyes

“Your son is dead as I soon shall be.

I can feel your hatred in these flames that

Burn my flesh yet I can not say I am deserved.

The witch closes her eyes

A sudden dark cloud forms over her head

Quickly stretching out over the entire village

As dark hands of death

The crowd mob shivers knowing

They have mingled with supremacy

“Fear not!  This vile thing is only part

Of a horrendous death well deserved. 

Her evil is dispersing unto the heavens

And will soon be denounced to Hell!

The crowd mob, still in fear, wait

In hope that nothing ill will befall them

Stars of deep dark red form

From the blackened, smoky veil.

A woman screams and

The children begin to cry 

The red stars begin to fall turning from

Dots to lines, then thickening to fire

As the fire strikes the earth the witch laughs loud.

“Such fools you are to try and burn me!

My soul is full of evil and hate,

But had no part in your son’s fortune!”

Her voice echoing through the blinding

Smoke and fire.

“Now I die and answer you yes, Death Bringer,

I do taketh pleasure in this burning death

For it will consume the lives of all those

Partakers who brought it save you.

For the Death Bringer it will leave

On Earth forever to mourn, and hate, and suffer!”

The fire storm hails from the skies as judgment

Striking down the crowd mob

Along with the last son

“No!” cried out the father in pain as he watched

A fireball strike his son in the face.

The chaos reigns to the sound of laughter

For a time unknown before ceasing.

“Live well,” the witch says before dieing. 

The father drops to his knees and cries.

All hatred inside burned out by such travesty

For now, he weeps and rests,

What plants inside him is scary to imagine

For a new hatred is sure to fester

Growing stronger than before and with greater

Forces tied into it,

Forces of divine nature and wrath.

In continuation.

-Stephen G. T.