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Authors: Devin O'Branagan
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circle. Their cellmates stamped their feet, clapped their hands, and whistled in encouragement. Margaret was overjoyed to see a smile on Priscilla’s face, and silently thanked the gods — and Mirasaya — for that smile.
The moment was shattered by the arrival of the examiners. The women burst into the cell, seemingly aghast at the sight and sounds that confronted them.
“What witchery goes on here?” the leader of the examiners — Margaret had learned her name was Hannah — bellowed.
The music, dancing, and laughter came to an abrupt halt.
“That’s better,” Hannah said.
She pointed at Priscilla. “We’re here for the little witch again.”
Margaret wanted to scream with rage, but held her silence.
“Not the pricking again! Oh, please, no. Mother?”
The examiners moved toward where Priscilla sat, but Mirasaya stepped into their path. “You no more stick the little one with your pins.”
Hannah looked at the dark woman in disbelief. “Who are you to be telling us what we’ll do?”
Rebekah moved to Mirasaya’s side. “You’ll not stick Prissy anymore. She’s been stuck enough to please any God, I’m sure.”
Two more prisoners moved to stand with Mirasaya and Rebekah, their eyes blazing with defiance.
Hannah’s mouth fell open, and she began to sputter.
Margaret felt her eyes sting with tears. Power had descended on the small band of women, and they were using it . No longer afraid of the repercussions, she moved, as did the remaining prisoners, to guard Priscilla.
Hannah shook her finger at them. “We’ll see about this.”
Defeated, the jury of six women stormed out of the cage.
There was a moment of silence, and then Priscilla began her drumming anew. The women looked at one another, the pride of their accomplishment washing over their faces, until each of them was smiling. Mirasaya began to sing her song and clap her hands, and soon they were all dancing.
Jansen’s fit roused William from sleep. At first the sounds in the cell mingled with William’s dream.
He was in a huge butchering hall, and dozens of screeching chickens were being slaughtered. The scene passed from his mind, and he became aware of Jansen lying on the floor, screeching and convulsing. Dawn was upon the sky, and in the dim light William watched the fit in amazed fascination.
Jansen’s eyes were open and bulging, but they were unseeing, while foamy spittle mixed with blood sprayed from his mouth. William had seen fits that accompanied high fevers and certain illnesses, but never before had he seen the strange contortions Jansen assumed or heard the sounds he made. William squinted and shifted into a seeing mode. The aura of light surrounding Jansen’s body came into focus, and William saw the parasite that was attached there. A hideous claw-shaped shadow was attached to the body of light, around the area of the head. Only once before, as a young man in England, had he seen anything similar. It was on a sailor recently returned from the West Indies, and had been magically implanted on the sailor’s person as a result of a tangle with voodoo. The sailor’s family called in Margaret — who even in her youth was highly regarded for her healing skills — to rid him of the curse. William struggled to remember what she did to accomplish the task.
Soon Jansen’s fit quieted, and, without coming to consciousness, he fell into a sound sleep. William picked him up and placed him back onto his bed, then waited patiently for him to wake up.
The first thing Jansen became aware of was the telltale soreness of his gashed tongue. It had happened again. He wondered how he could bear to go on living with the affliction, but as he considered his circumstances, he decided that he might not have to go on living too much longer after all. Those damn Puritans, anyway. He opened his eyes to see William gazing at him, and embarrassment flooded. Damn William, anyway. He could have been a gentleman about the
The moment was shattered by the arrival of the examiners. The women burst into the cell, seemingly aghast at the sight and sounds that confronted them.
“What witchery goes on here?” the leader of the examiners — Margaret had learned her name was Hannah — bellowed.
The music, dancing, and laughter came to an abrupt halt.
“That’s better,” Hannah said.
She pointed at Priscilla. “We’re here for the little witch again.”
Margaret wanted to scream with rage, but held her silence.
“Not the pricking again! Oh, please, no. Mother?”
The examiners moved toward where Priscilla sat, but Mirasaya stepped into their path. “You no more stick the little one with your pins.”
Hannah looked at the dark woman in disbelief. “Who are you to be telling us what we’ll do?”
Rebekah moved to Mirasaya’s side. “You’ll not stick Prissy anymore. She’s been stuck enough to please any God, I’m sure.”
Two more prisoners moved to stand with Mirasaya and Rebekah, their eyes blazing with defiance.
Hannah’s mouth fell open, and she began to sputter.
Margaret felt her eyes sting with tears. Power had descended on the small band of women, and they were using it . No longer afraid of the repercussions, she moved, as did the remaining prisoners, to guard Priscilla.
Hannah shook her finger at them. “We’ll see about this.”
Defeated, the jury of six women stormed out of the cage.
There was a moment of silence, and then Priscilla began her drumming anew. The women looked at one another, the pride of their accomplishment washing over their faces, until each of them was smiling. Mirasaya began to sing her song and clap her hands, and soon they were all dancing.
Jansen’s fit roused William from sleep. At first the sounds in the cell mingled with William’s dream.
He was in a huge butchering hall, and dozens of screeching chickens were being slaughtered. The scene passed from his mind, and he became aware of Jansen lying on the floor, screeching and convulsing. Dawn was upon the sky, and in the dim light William watched the fit in amazed fascination.
Jansen’s eyes were open and bulging, but they were unseeing, while foamy spittle mixed with blood sprayed from his mouth. William had seen fits that accompanied high fevers and certain illnesses, but never before had he seen the strange contortions Jansen assumed or heard the sounds he made. William squinted and shifted into a seeing mode. The aura of light surrounding Jansen’s body came into focus, and William saw the parasite that was attached there. A hideous claw-shaped shadow was attached to the body of light, around the area of the head. Only once before, as a young man in England, had he seen anything similar. It was on a sailor recently returned from the West Indies, and had been magically implanted on the sailor’s person as a result of a tangle with voodoo. The sailor’s family called in Margaret — who even in her youth was highly regarded for her healing skills — to rid him of the curse. William struggled to remember what she did to accomplish the task.
Soon Jansen’s fit quieted, and, without coming to consciousness, he fell into a sound sleep. William picked him up and placed him back onto his bed, then waited patiently for him to wake up.
The first thing Jansen became aware of was the telltale soreness of his gashed tongue. It had happened again. He wondered how he could bear to go on living with the affliction, but as he considered his circumstances, he decided that he might not have to go on living too much longer after all. Those damn Puritans, anyway. He opened his eyes to see William gazing at him, and embarrassment flooded. Damn William, anyway. He could have been a gentleman about the
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