Happy Friday! It’s time for another installment in Frisky Friday Flash Fiction. You know the drill. I provide a picture and the first lines of a story (300 words maximum). You provide the rest. I select the best and post it the following week.
Let’s look back at last week’s story:
“The Ancestral Promise”
No one thought I’d be back.
They wrote me off and tossed my remains like last night’s spoiled food.
But I told them I’d return. And now it’s time for a little vengeance.
My tattered skirts trail behind me as I move along the deserted streets, no longer paved with cobblestones. Three hundred years ago, I ventured the back alleys and I danced in the taverns.
Life was good until a good man was caught in my bed. His sister, a relative of the governor, claimed Scott would only lay with me if bewitched. She was a wicked shrew who should have hung beside me. Agatha was someone who hated the very ground I walked on. She said I had a way of drawing in men to my chambers. According to her, only a witch could do so.
Foul smelling men dragged me in my underclothes into the street. They tossed me into a dark cell with a group of others, all of us accused of witchcraft. We were stripped of our clothing and questioned endlessly. So-called brave villagers tortured us, looking for a confession.
Only Tituba gave them what they wanted. The two Sarahs swore they were God-fearing women. I remained silent.
They led us to the hanging tree. I watched as the rope was placed on Tituba’s neck. My sister was strong-willed. The two Sarahs cried the entire time. But when it came to me I spoke the words they needed to hear.
“You shall regret this day. I shall return. Those of us who live in darkness will have vengeance on your souls.”
And so, I came back to collect on a promise I made. Ancestors of Salem, your families were not saints. Now it is time for you to pay for their sins.
And now for this week’s:
He’s been on my trail for years. Our paths cross, but I always avoid him. He has the power to end my life, but I’m tired of running.