The Witch Who Wouldn't Hang

Present

          "Daddy, tell us a story!"

          "Yeah, a scary one!"

          "All right, young blood. Sit back and hear a tale, the tale of a fateful witch..."

Past

          “Witch, prepare to die,” the judge declared as he looked at Windy with all the hate he could muster. Then, he turned to the rest of the church. “She hangs at sunrise.”

          “Excuse me,” Windy said politely to the judge. “Who ever said I’m a witch?”

          “Dost thou mock me? Thou admitted to using witchcraft,” the judge said in a matter of fact tone of voice.

          “No. I said that I use magic. It’s not the same thing, you know.”

          “Fine. If thou art not a witch, then what doth thou be?”

          “Well, I’m not into labels...”

          “Answer the question!”

          “Well, I see you’re not going to drop the witch thing but, hypothetically speaking, if I was a witch, that doesn’t necessarily make me bad.”

         “What dost it make thou then?”

          “Hello, a witch.” Windy rolled her eyes.

          “Thou made me stab mine husband!” Wendy screamed at Windy.

          “I did no such thing! Now, see that man over there,” Windy pointed to an old man in the far corner of the church, “I made his hair fall out.” She smiled, as if proud of herself.

          “See, evil witch!” Wendy screamed again.

          “Oh, come off it! Now I see why my parents moved to the twenty-first century. It’s not like he looked so good with hair anyways; I did him a favor. Now, if you want to get upset, I just gave you a pimple or fifty, crater-face!” Right before the church’s eyes, pimples began to sprout from Wendy’s face.

          “Witch, witch,” the church chanted over Wendy’s screams.

          “No more!” the judge roared. “Take her away!” Three of the town's strongest men stepped forward and grabbed Windy.

          “Get your hands off me! You didn’t do this last year when I kept the Goodmans' crops from growing or the year before when I made the Chesters' dog turn on them! Gosh, I could walk you know. Haven’t you ever heard of women’s rights?” The men ignored Windy’s protests and dragged her to a tiny cell in the bottom of the church. “You’ll hear from my lawyers!” was the last thing the men heard before they locked Windy into the cell for the night.

          The next morning dawned sunny and clear. The men came to collect Windy before sunrise, so she got to watch it from the scaffold as the executioner fitted her for a noose.

          “So good of you all to wake up this early just to see me off,” Windy called with a smile to the town gathered in the square. They answered her with stern silence. She looked remarkably well for someone who had just spent the night in a small dark cell knowing she would die in the morning. In fact, she looked ravishing.

          Windy had been arrested in her favorite dress, a cream one with a red velvet overcoat that complimented her dark hair and red lips. She had managed to keep her dress clean, even though it was hard between the rough guards and the dirty cell. Her skin glowed from the fresh washing she had given it with the bit of drinking water they had given her. She smiled genially as the noose was slipped over her neck and the masses shuddered.

          The minister began a speech about something, but Windy wasn’t listening. She remembered how the guards looked this morning when they came to get her, and she walked past them saying “Let’s get this over with,” in a bored tone of voice; she giggled to herself.

          “Look how she laughs in the face of death!” exclaimed the minister. The crowd murmured their agreement and surprise.

          “Actually, I was giggling at all of you,” Windy put in to the minister. The minister ignored her.

          “Now is the time! Go back to–“

          ”Did you know ‘minister’ has ‘mini’ in it? That’s so funny,” Windy interrupted the proceedings with her raucous laughter.

          “Hang her!” the minister yelled. The trapdoor beneath Windy opened and the noose tightened around her neck. She hung there calmly for a little over five minutes, muttering something about her thinking the practice was ridiculous, then she flipped herself up and onto the hanging post.

          “Thanks for getting that kink out of my neck; it was stiff all morning.” Windy looked around at the surprised crowd and then narrowed her eyes and said, “I know magic; why would something as low tech as that kill me? You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Noon: Same Day

          Windy stood strapped to a stake surrounded by firewood. The minister held a match in his hand as he completed another speech while Windy rolled her eyes and made fun of him.

          “Thus, with a spark, she dies!” the minister said as he lighted the wood. “Better?” the minister asked as he turned to Windy. Windy had to bite her lip to control her laughter as the fire began to consume the branches. When the fire reached her feet, she smiled and tilted her head up in bliss.

          “Ahh, this is so warm!” She exclaimed in a dreamy tone of voice. The flames jumped up and licked at her skin, but she didn’t flinch away or writhe in agony. Instead, Windy squirmed closer with a peaceful smile on her face.

          In an hour, the flames were gone along with the wood leaving Windy looking longingly at the ashes.

          “Aww, that was so nice of you guys. Good thing I fireproof all my clothes,” she said looking at the crowd that had gathered to see her die. This crowd was bigger than the one in the morning. “To answer your question,” she said turning to the minister, “that was better. Not only did you get the kink out of my neck, you gave me a fire bath. What’s next? A massage?” The men of the crowd pointed their rifles at her as the women ran home to protect their children. The minister sat crestfallen in a heap on the floor.

          “You can always try again,” Windy said soothingly to the minister. “I mean, I don’t count this as a try. I mean, you couldn’t have been trying. According to you, I’m a witch and witches are from hell. Hell is filled with fires, hello. If I burned so easily, how could I be from there?”

          “Take her away!” the minister ordered.

Sundown: Same Day

          Windy stood on a cliff overlooking the sea with giant rocks tied to her ankles by a pair of stout ropes. The minister was finishing up his usual speech. Windy surveyed the crowd and saw that it was an even bigger one; the whole town was there and a few people from nearby ones. The minister finished and shoved her off the cliff before she could say anything.

          With a thud, Windy landed on a rock. The people of the town cheered, the minister loudest of all.

          “We have killed her! We have killed the witch!” They shouted and danced around. Some of the woman from the town had created a feast, and so, the people ate, danced, and celebrated Windy’s death.

          When they finished and were heading back to town their path was blocked by a soaking wet woman singing “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.” It was Windy.

          “Wow, you guys really did give me a massage. Though, might I add, I thought that method was for testing if I was a witch and shouldn’t involve my falling on rocks.”

          Noooo! Why won’t thou die, evil devil?!” the minister cried.

          “Me evil? Who showed up to watch me die? All of you. I know you guys didn’t expect that stuff to tickle, far less expect it to be like a day at the spa to me.”

          “Thou stopped the Goodmans’ crops from growing!” A brave woman cried out from the crowd.

          “Okay, who here liked the Goodmans? They were vindictive, and creepy and just plain mean.”

          “Thou made the Chesters’ dog turn on them!” A man called out.

          “They abused the poor thing. All I did was give it a sense of self worth. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.” The dog limped out of the shadows and hunched protectively in front of Windy. A low growl escaped its mouth as it saw the crowd. The people were silent; they had nothing else to say.

          “It’s okay, I forgive you. You did give me a spa day after all, even if it was unintentional and actually, totally opposite of what you wanted.” Windy met the eyes of everyone in the crowd as she spoke. “Where I come from, we don’t hold grudges, although, you people are really very sick. Must be the lack of t.v. and movies. Anyways, I’m sick of the lack of running water and automatic things and so, I’m returning to the twenty-first century.” No sooner did Windy say that then she disappeared in a gust of wind, taking the dog with her.

          The people stood in a shocked silence for a moment and then began to cheer.

Present

"Dad, that wasn't scary!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh yeah? How about the fact that Windy's your Mom?" Daddy said dramatically and then added an evil laugh.

"No, that would be cool."

"Oh."