Banshee Angel Of Judgement (5 page)

“
Order,
order,” the sheriff thumped his big clammy hand down on to the
table before him bringing a hush to the room, “bring in the
jury.”

The jury
staggered their way through the crowd to the
seats kept empty for them. Helen’s heart sank
even more at the sight of their ruddy cheeks and the way they
refused to look in her direction.

“
Have you come
to a decision on the guilt of the witch,” the sheriff wanted to get
this over with as soon as he could so as he could get back to the
free food and drink.

A man nearest the over
weight official shakily pushed himself too his feet, “We
have.”

“
And how say
you.”

“
We find her
guilty your honour sir,” the man happily sat back down, job
done.

The sheriff
turned solemnly to Helen, “You have been found guilty of witchcraft
which leaves me with no option but to sentence you to death. You
shall be held till the morning then taken to the crossroads where
you shall be strangled at the stake then burnt and your bones
buried at the place of you execution and may god have mercy on your
evil soul.”

The crowd
cheered, whilst Helen felt as if she’d be slammed from a great
height. She found it hard to breathe as she was dragged through the
baying crowd, blows reigning down on her from all sides. The world
spun around her as she was tossed back into the cell to await the
new morning.

As the night
past she was left alone but only found snatches of sleep as
thoughts raced through her mind. She
had been sure the Minister would have come to her defence or one of
the many people she had known all her life. Tears did not flow from
her instead a twisting anger grew within. Bitter words were barely
held from spilling out. As the night moved towards the dawn her
thoughts turned darker consuming her every fibre.

When they came
for her she no longer was the young naive girl they had brutalised.
She was the witch they had feared, full of evil intent, revenge
foremost
in her mind; her
hatred burning all reason away.

She was taken,
on the cart that had been used to take
her to captivity, to the crossroads outside of the
small township. A post had been erected at the other side of the
road furthest from the town. Fire wood was piled nearby; the crowd
had already gathered to watch the death of this evil doer, happy
for the distraction to their otherwise gruelling lives.

As the cart
came to a halt three men came forth to manhandle Helen through
those gather
ed citizens,
taking her to the stake that awaited her. A gag was forced into her
mouth, her hands tied behind the wooden stake so her arms wrapped
backwards around it holding her, as more rope was coiled around he
torso to hold her firm to the post.

“
People,” the fat form of the sheriff called the baying
crowd to some sort of order, “people, we are here for the purpose
of ending the evil that has dwelt for to
o long amongst us. Bringing fear, pain and torment
upon us whilst pretending to be of a kindly heart but her,” the
odorous man wagged his finger in the direction of Helen, “evil
deeds have been uncovered for us all to see and now we shall have
our justice.”

The crowd
yelled their approval, chanting as one, “Kill the witch.” Rotted
turnips and other vegetable matter rained towards the unfortunate
girl.

Her hatred
clearly visible in her eyes
,
burning as the man chosen to carry out the terrible deed moved up
to her rear. He held a rope in his hand ready to garrotte the
condemned prisoner but as he prepared himself for the task a
figure, newly arrived pushed his way through the throng feebly, yet
those close to him made way.

“
Wait! Wait!” the old clergyman cried as loudly as
he could as he reached the reason for
the gathering.

“
Ah the good
Minister,” the sheriff looked contemptuously at the ill looking old
man, “what can we do for you.”

“
This is
wrong and you know it,” the aging minister said with
conviction.

“
She was found guilty by her peers of casting of spell to
the detriment of others and so sentenced accordingly as is the
policy of the church whom you represent,”
the fat man said with a flourish as the crowd nodded
their approval.

“
You have no need to tell me of the church’s standing on
these matters but it is for the church and not you to judge in
these matter
s as well you
know,” the elderly man drew on his limited strength hoping he could
at least do something to ease the poor girls suffering. “You sir,
would send this so called witch to her death without first allowing
her to confess her sins before the Lord.”

“
We gave her more than enough chances to
confess but she refused though if you so wish to
try again then be my guest,” he moved to one side to let the other
man approach the figure bound to the wooden post, gloating at him
as he passed.

“
Oh, my dear child I should have known, I should have
protected you better,” Reverend Adams said apologetically as he
undid the gag to let the girl find peace before
death claimed her.

“
You have nothing to fear my mother’s friend,” croaked Helen
once her mouth was free of the obstruction, “but for all of you
others who have falsely sentenced me to death I call a curse upon
you, may the screaming of the banshee tear
your very souls to ever lasting
torment.”

The old man
regaled backwards horror plain for all to see at the curse uttered
by the
now self confessed
witch, as they now saw it. The sheriff gave a nod to the
executioner who quickly prevented the witch from saying anything
further, choking her till life appeared to desert her.

“
Burn her!” A
cry went up from the crowd; the fire wood was quickly piled around
the lifeless girl as the crowd applauded.

T
he old clergyman left
the scene his heart breaking as he went at hearing the girl he had
baptized all those years ago, the girl he had tried to look out
for, calling down such wrongs on the towns people no matter the
reason for it he could not condone such a thing. By her very words
she had justified the barbarity of the crowd and now he could not
hope to defend her memory or hope to obtain at least a Christian
burial for her.

As the fire
took hold of the wood Helen roused from unconsciousness. Pain
seared into her mind, her screams shaking everyone present and
chased after the old man headed back to his church; a scream that
would haunt his memory till his death
as it would for so many. As the fire consumed her life it
bore a new form in the scream that could bring fear to the hardest
of souls.

Death was
gratefully received as the fire melted her flesh. She didn’t
wait to see how they would treat her
remains. She knew she needed an anchor to hold her to this realm so
she could seek the revenge against those responsible for the wrongs
done to her.

Her spirit
passed over fields, through the woods to the place she had known as
home; to
the house where she
had been born. As she entered she saw the devastation left by those
searching for valuables but to her it was the work of those she now
wished ill. As she surveyed the broken objects that her mother had
left her she notice a large glass jar on its side hidden amongst
the other things her mother had lovingly looked after now smashed.
Only the jar seemed to have survived. Outside her cow was gone as
was the garden plundered of its produce.

C
hapter 7

“
How long do you think it will take for you
and
…? Andy isn’t it?” Sandra
said looking at the taller man on searching her memory for his
name. Sandra was a short stout woman with shoulder length mousey
hair; her most prominent feature was a large hairy mole on her top
lip which earned her the nickname of Cocopops.

“
Only an hour
or two at most,” answered Micky.

His boss
looked at him nodding as if trying to look all knowing. “Then
you’ll sweep up the road from the main gate to the walled garden?”
She questioned the men yet knew this was her plan but wanting them
to think it was somehow their idea.

“
Yes,” Micky
agreed. He waited for her to reveal what else she might have for
them to do, knowing she always did.

“
Do you think,” she bega
n as if to suggest something, “that you’d have time to
brush out the walled garden?”

“
Yeah, cause we’ll not be finishing till late as we open
tomorrow,”
Micky pretended to
remind the middle aged woman.

“
Well if you
do that then you can come and see me if you need something else to
do,” she said as if pleased by their decision, “that
alright?”

“
Okay, will
do,” Micky agreed as both he and Andy lifted the paint tins, with
the brushes then made for the canteen door to head out to start the
long days work followed closely by their boss, on her way to the
main office.

The sky seemed
brighter as they exited the cabin as the sun tried to burn its way
through the cloud cover.
They
headed left out the gate on their way to the top end of the park
and the log flume fence that awaited a new coat of
paint.

“
Once you’re finished with the paint
ing could you drop it off at the office?” Sandra asked
before the two men could escape.

“
No problem,”
both answered in unison as they went one way and the woman headed
the other.

“
Why does she
want us to take the paint to the office?” Andy looked to his
co-worker as one of the parks Manitou’s drove past and in through
the double gates, stopping in front of the cabin.

“
No idea,” Micky shrugged his shoulders, “maybe she’s going
to decorate the office
with it
or maybe her house.”

“
You really
think,” Andy answered naively.

Micky laughed aloud as his
friend looked at him, bemused. “Oh yeah, I can just see her house
now a nice shade of Timberland brown,” he said between
guffaws.

“
Well you never know,” Andy said as he realized
he was making a fool of himself, a
little redness coming to his cheeks.

“
Yeah
, I can just see
it,” Micky continued to tease.

“
What ever,” Andy murmured as Micky
slowly stopped laughing. “So where are we going to
start?”

“
Where we
left off yesterday,” Micky said casually as they walked along the
tree lined boulevard that took them to the awaiting new fence in
need of a coating of paint. They past the newer coaster, one of the
main attractions, standing taller than the trees by the road; even
though its entrance was below the road.

“
When do you
think we’ll finish the night by the way?” Andy hoped it wouldn’t be
too late as he didn’t fancy going through the woods at night which
he now could see as they approached the log flume.

“
Hopefully not
to late,” Micky paused to think it over for a moment, “maybe about
half seven or eight.”

A man walking
his dog nodded at the pair as they turned into the picnic area
before the flume. . “Looks like it might brighten up later,” the
gentleman said as he passed by on the other side of the
roadway.

“
Let’s hope,”
Micky answered cheerfully. They crossed the large open space going
round the tables and set down the cans they’d been carrying next to
the fence. “You want to start down there.” He pointed in the
direction of the tea house, a large wooden barn like structure as
he noticed the man with his dog letting his pet run free from the
lead.

“
Okay,” Andy
answered stooping to retrieve the paint tin he’d just deposited on
the ground.

“
You got
something to open the tin with?” Micky queried before his younger
companion lifted the container.

“
Yeah, I’ve
got my keys for my house,” he said as straightened, tin in hand
before moving off to get on with the job at hand.

Micky kneeled
down
, reaching into his pocket
to find his own keys to open his pot, sitting the brush from his
other hand on the ground as he did so. He soon had the lid off and
began applying the contents to the new wood
unceremoniously.

They
work
ed quickly, moving closer
as the fence became thickly coated with the brown water based
solution. Splodges dropped from brushes as the day brightened, the
sun finally winning against the grey overcast and began to shine,
weakly at first. With it the day started to feel warmer and both
men loosened their coats as they worked; before long discarding
them as the sweat began to trickle down their backs though they
still retained their sweatshirts.

Bird song
drifted from the nearby wood
s
as the sun finally burned the last of the grey from above yet,
leaving a white haziness to the sky.