Lost Treasure of the Gypsy Dawn Intro

A long time ago, in a small coastal town, in the New World, a woman was about to be burned at the stake.

“Witch,” the village people screamed, as they threw garbage and rotten potatoes and insults at her. Oddly, the woman did not flinch nor cry even though the bitter cold winds ripped at her uncovered arms and legs. She merely looked out to sea, over the cliff near which she was placed.

“What have you to say for yourself, witch?” The Magistrate, with his powdery wig and arrogant sneer, asked coldly.

“My name is Coral Dawn, Magistrate Adams,” She replied shortly. Her eyes blazed as she turned to look at the man who would kill her.

“You have been convicted of that most grievous sin, witchcraft. Evidence has been presented against Thee. As the laws state,” Adams was in his element, and from his rosy cheeks shone his pleasure, “Thou may speak on thine own behalf.”

Coral Dawn, a Romanian transplant in this new world, stared at the hateful crowd around her. A hush fell. Her eyes burned with a savage glow, and the crowd was afraid.

“A curse,” she said softly, though the words seemed to echo in the ears of all who listened.

Magistrate Adams balked. “A curse on your seed.” She looked up into the suddenly fearful eyes of the man.

“BURN HER!” He bellowed, and the wood at her feet began to smoke.

Her shrill voice rose over the crackling of the young flames.

“Your spawn will sink into the filth,” she began as she wiped the garbage from her shoulders. Her hair flew back in a sudden breeze.

“A curse!”

The crowd shrank back.

“Though dismal, listen well all.

Misfortune!”

Smoke swirled eerily around her, swirling in patterns as if it had been called.

“Dissatisfied become you. On Adam’s head call blame.
Only will the light of Dawn lift spirit,
and reveal Treasure underneath.

A curse!” Coral Dawn shrieked the last line as the flames began to lick her ankles.