Trials of the Gilpin coven
It had been many years since the last time the village came together. For one moment everybody stopped what they were doing to assemble outside the church. Farmers took a break from plowing, fishermen pulled in their lines, and shopkeeps closed their stores. Parents sent the younger children to bed while agreeing it was important the older ones bear witness to the end of a great travesty.
Our little village had lost all its life and color. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, matching the grey and black coats we wore. The fire of our torches gave off the only color there in front of the church.
The farmers erected four wooden crosses side by side, each cross stood about ten feet tall and were separated about five feet from each other. The older children were told to chop wood to pile around each one. Soon the clergy arrived and calmed a few frightened souls, promising us we’d once again bask in the lords good graces for banishing the demons of this damned world back to hell.
One by one four bound and gagged women were carried in by some of the towns toughest men. Each woman looked stunning, they all shared the same beautiful face but kept their own uniqueness. The oldest one had hair as white as snow that flowed in waves to the middle of her back. The next woman had straight hair that ran all the way down to her hips, colored jet black like some of the neighborhood cats. The last two both had wild curly hair that looked like they had just gotten out of bed, the only difference between the two was one woman’s hair was brown and the others was red.
The four were then fixated to a cross of their own with rope, and for safe measure, chain. The villagers grew restless and the clergy stepped forward and motioned for silence.
“Brothers, sisters, let us thank the lord for giving us this opportunity to prove our worth of his divine will.”
The villagers raised their torches and cheered as the clergy once again motioned for silence to continue.
“For nearly a decade our crops withered away, diseases plagued our water, and mothers lost their newborn.” His voice had a booming echo that rattled our bones, it gave us confidence we would need.
“These four harlot’s bound to the crosses before you stand accused of witchcraft and practice of the occult. Over the years this coven drained the life out of the village all while gaining our trust as lovable Lady Gilpin and her three beautiful daughters.”
Low whispers could be heard among the villagers as the clergy motioned for silence one final time to finish his speech.
“Tonight their horror ends… may the lord be with us all.”
The clergy then removed a silver cross from his coat pocket, kissed it, and mouthed a few words to himself while stepping aside to watch the village go to work.
The first wave of torches flew in a split second. Everybody that had been personally affected didn’t waste one second waiting to hurl their torches. The wood piles around each giant cross flared up quickly. The harlots screamed muffles through their gags as they began to cook.
The second wave came from the “just for fun” crowd. Those NOT personally affected held torch throwing contest, for each witch hit in the face beer was given out. Some of the men were so drunk they tried pissing on the charred corpses only to end up dousing some of the bonfire.
The final wave of torches staggered in here and there. The drunks had called it a night and stumbled to their homes. The only ones left in front of the church were the farmers and the clergy teaching the older children how to banish future demons.
“Ready… Aim… Throw.” The clergy’s soothing voice instructed.
” May the lords good grace be with you boy’s.”