A Day of Recognition, Millions murdered in the name of god (Part Three)

Myst walked through the large steal door and the smell of fresh air hit her. The sun felt hot against her sun deprived skin. Careful to not pull to hard on the ropes binding her she tilted her face to the sun so the golden rays could hit her face. For a moment she forgot what she was doing until Dole’s voice pulled her back to reality, “Get moving, witch!”1

The streets were filled with people, many Myst had known most of her life. Now they all looked different, almost evil. Myst smiled as she watched children be pushed behind their parents. Then a woman with thick auburn hair came into view, grey heavily laced the long aged locks, and lines sat deep in her face. Myst stopped, speaking loud enough so a large part of the never ending crowd could hear her, “You’ve came to watch your own grand-daughter burn. I’m not surprised you drug me here when my own mother hung to death. Where is father, could you not convince him that I deserved this?”2

The woman’s old eyes met Myst’s thousands of feelings swam in unseen tears, “Your dead to me... You’re as worthless as that tramp of a mother of yours. Your father is at home drunk, a least that is where I left him. He refused to come because he believes you are as innocent as the day you were born.”3

“My father knows I am innocent of the charges brought against me. I may be Wiccan but I never hurt a living soul or any of the dead at that. Thank you for your time ma’am.”4

A gleaming black cloaked figure weaved unnoticed through the crowd. Every now and then Myst would catch a quick glimpse of the ebony cloth and relief would flood over her. Dole was to busy mumbling about random things to realize two more cloaked figures following him. Myst clanked through the rest of the surrounding crowd. Black cloaks were scattered though it in various places. The one entertainer’s black hair flowed freely as she stood on a lovely stage. A smile spread across Myst’s face, her family was here… her father was here.5

Half way to the platform a blond haired little girl ran into the middle of the street, two rag dolls bouncing in her arms. Everyone seemed to gasp and then hold their breath, how could a mother let her child run in front of this witch? The black cloak sitting loosely on the seven year olds shoulders set off her beautiful green eyes. Myst knelt to the ground, the rope cutting into her fragile flesh. Paige wrapped her arms around Myst for a split second before she pulled back so Myst could fully see her. Tears sat in the child’s eyes waiting to be released, with a shaking hand she held out one of the rag dolls, “I want you to have this, ma’am,”6

Myst turned slightly, making the ropes pull even tighter, so Paige could place the doll in her hands. Myst whispered softly, “Thank you, Paige. Tell everyone that I love them dearly, especially my papa and James. Now, my dear, go and tell your mother that it will soon be time.”7

Paige’s nodded, “Aye, I will,”8

The platforms sat six feet above the town square. On the first sat a panel of judges each of which Myst knew personally, each of which had condemned her to this horrible fate. On the other was a 6 foot wooden stake with piles of hay around it. Dole pushed Myst up the steps making her almost fall several time. As she stepped onto the platform the head judge stood. The resemblance between him and his brother was unremarkable, not that James would ever admit to his brother being on the hanging committee. As he spoke Dole freed Myst’s hands, “Mystic, do you have anything to say in your defense?”9

Myst smiled, “My last words are not in my defense, one day the people will call out for a day of recognition, for all the people who are being wrongfully killed in the name of your god,”10

With those words Dole slapped Myst across the face, sending her flying and falling at the edge of the platform. Making sure the rag doll was still in her hands, she just laid there for a moment searching the crowd, and then his face came into view. James was standing maybe ten feet way from her, his dark eyes stone as always. She read the words on his lips, “I love you,”11

Carefully she stood back up, “Careful, if you kill me now there will be no show,”12

Dole grabbed her and threw her against the rough wooden stake, wrapping the rope around her throat and torso. He pulled the rope until her throat started to bleed, “Is that tight enough for you witch?”13

As he stepped away he threw a burning piece of wood onto the dry hay. Quickly the flames engulfed the hay, and were soon working on the hem lines of Myst’s dress. The smoke blurred Myst’s vision and soon she passed out. Then the startled screams from the crowd woke her. Dole was lying on the platform with a silver and gold arrow protruding from his chest. At this site Myst smiled and closed her eyes, never to open them again.14

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~15

That night James dug a grave right above town, and placed Myst’s body along with the doll’s into the grave. Paige looked at her mother tears now sliding down her small face, “Why did she have to die? Why mama?”16

Thorn looked at her daughter, “She died because she knew people loved her, and she knew that those people will call for a day of recognition, because so many are being killed in the name of ‘God’, my child, that is why,”17