Cinders

There was nothing I could do. I’d come to terms with that. Even now as I stood on the sidelines with my mother wrapped up in my arms, I couldn’t think anything other than I was losing her. She was being taken from us. Her fate was decided.

My mother stood weeping at my side, crying softly as she hid her face against my breast. I rubbed her arms gently, watching in silent horror as they led my sister up to the stake. The people around me, men and women alike, showed no emotion.

I felt tears spill down my cheek as she turned her back to the stake and met my gaze. Her expression was hard but I could see the fear in her eyes. She didn’t deserve this. No woman did. Some men just didn’t see it that way, sadly.

I closed my eyes as a man started recounting her many ‘sins’. She hadn’t committed any of them. She was the last person you’d expect to participate in such acts as witchcraft and infidelity. This was all her husband’s doing. He wanted nothing to do with her and this was his method of ending it.

I opened my eyes in time to see the executioner begin the fire. I felt my heart pound, trying so hard to contain the accusations piling up within me. I could just imagine that monster’s expression right now, smiling viciously as he watched the woman burn.

The fire erupted quickly. My mother whimpered, pulling away from me in a last desperate attempt to beg for her eldest daughter’s life. Her plea went unnoticed, drowned out by the murderous flame before us. I pulled her away from it, burying her face in my chest again. She grasped the back of my dress, sobbing uncontrollably.

As the fire reached her, Emily cried out in pain. It was only now that her tears came. I saw her cheeks slowly begin to glisten in the firelight. She was staring at me, her gaze pleading me to take care of our mother and to forgive her.

I raised a hand subtly, a weak attempt at a goodbye. My sister smiled weakly at me one last time before opening her mouth. I braced myself for a pained cry, receiving the opposite.

“I love you,” she gasped, just loud enough for us to hear over the flame.

My mother gasped, her head snapping up. She tried to run to her again but I held her back. She cried a response and I mouthed mine. After receiving our answers, my sister let her eyes close. I prayed she would open them again, to know she was still alive. At that moment, though, that was the last thing I really wanted. I wished she would die, get away from her agony.

As the execution ended, the crowd began to disperse. I let my tears go, staring at the pile of ashes where my sister had stood. My mother had long since left. She couldn’t handle it anymore. I had stayed. I had to bring my sister’s ashes back. I couldn’t let that monster take them.

I watched the men cleaning up the remains and stepped forward, hands before me. They looked down at me.

“What do you want?” one man snapped. I fought back a grimace at his foul breath.

“I would like to take my sister’s ashes with me,” I replied as calmly and levelly as I could. The men scoffed at my request, pushing me aside.

“Out of the way, tramp,” the man from earlier replied.

“Sir, give her the ashes,” a voice rang out from behind me.

I jumped, turning to look at the owner. The man was handsome, young. His long, light brown hair reached halfway down his back, waving at random. His skin was fair, his eyes a dark brown. He met the servants’ gaze as he came to my side. I looked back at the men, slightly insulted when the man handed the ashes to him.

“Leave,” the stranger ordered. The servants walked away, glaring over their shoulders at him.

I looked up at the man as he held out my sister’s ashes. I accepted the box, nodding calmly. I turned my back on him, ready to make my way home. His voice cut me short.

“You can find me at the bookshop in the town,” he called. I looked back at him, confused. “This will not be easy. There will come a time when you will choose to follow in her footsteps, choose to take a stand. When that time comes, I shall be waiting for you.”

Without another word, he walked away. I watched him go, more confused than before. My sister had never taken a stand for anything. She had done absolutely nothing to deserve such a cruel death. She was innocent.

Ignoring the thoughts now clouding my mind, I made my way back to my house. My business here was done.

***

“Mother?” I asked on entering the small home.

She didn’t reply. I heard her weeping, though. I walked to where the sound was coming from, finding her at the small, now two person, kitchen table. She was staring out the window when I entered. I joined her, resting the box between us lightly. She looked down at it, crying harder.

“Thank you, Simone,” she gasped.

I rose from my chair and rounded the table, wrapping my arm around her tightly. She leaned her head against my shoulder, letting her weeping escalate. I couldn’t help my tears as they broke free. It was just too much.