OOC: The Dream
"This girl is a witch, and we must purge the devil from her! With fire!"
Then, a girl's screams rang through the air.
It was the dead of night, and he was in the midst of a mob of people. Some looked sleepy and confused, others sharp, alert- and angry. A few carried torches. The screaming girl was being dragged toward a post atop a raised platform. She was then placed facing the crowd, hands bound around the post behind her, as dry brush was laid in front of her. He watched them, frozen with shock, then turned to a man with long gray hair standing next to him.
"Take me instead," he said desperately. "Take my life for hers!"
"The witch must die," said the older man coldly. "God commands it." He then turned to watch, horrifed, as a few of the members of the mob stepped forward and started lighting the brush on fire.
"NO!" he yelled desperately, running toward them, trying to pull them away from the girl. "Get away from her!" One of the men grabbed him by the arms and held him while another punched him in the face. He broke free and tried to fight them off, then stood protectively in front of the girl. "She has done nothing to you!" he cried out at the assembled people. "If she dies tonight, it won't be God's will that killed her! It'll be you- your lunacy! Your ignorance!" There were a few murmurings, a few faces turned from angry and suspicious to concerned, but the majority stood strong.
Knowing what he had to do, knowing that they would not be swayed, he climbed backward onto the lower part of the platform.
"That's not going to stop us, Doctor," said one of the assembled men. The girl, however, smiled down at him, seemingly unconcerned.
"Post holer," she said. "Digging holes for posts." He gazed up at her, his heart filled with dread, but still he climbed again, standing beside the girl and holding her to him. He was going to die with her rather than watch her get burned.
"Light it," he said to the crowd in a strained voice.
"Time to go," the girl agreed, and he closed his eyes. A breeze stirred his hair.
Then, a girl's screams rang through the air.
It was the dead of night, and he was in the midst of a mob of people. Some looked sleepy and confused, others sharp, alert- and angry. A few carried torches. The screaming girl was being dragged toward a post atop a raised platform. She was then placed facing the crowd, hands bound around the post behind her, as dry brush was laid in front of her. He watched them, frozen with shock, then turned to a man with long gray hair standing next to him.
"Take me instead," he said desperately. "Take my life for hers!"
"The witch must die," said the older man coldly. "God commands it." He then turned to watch, horrifed, as a few of the members of the mob stepped forward and started lighting the brush on fire.
"NO!" he yelled desperately, running toward them, trying to pull them away from the girl. "Get away from her!" One of the men grabbed him by the arms and held him while another punched him in the face. He broke free and tried to fight them off, then stood protectively in front of the girl. "She has done nothing to you!" he cried out at the assembled people. "If she dies tonight, it won't be God's will that killed her! It'll be you- your lunacy! Your ignorance!" There were a few murmurings, a few faces turned from angry and suspicious to concerned, but the majority stood strong.
Knowing what he had to do, knowing that they would not be swayed, he climbed backward onto the lower part of the platform.
"That's not going to stop us, Doctor," said one of the assembled men. The girl, however, smiled down at him, seemingly unconcerned.
"Post holer," she said. "Digging holes for posts." He gazed up at her, his heart filled with dread, but still he climbed again, standing beside the girl and holding her to him. He was going to die with her rather than watch her get burned.
"Light it," he said to the crowd in a strained voice.
"Time to go," the girl agreed, and he closed his eyes. A breeze stirred his hair.