ding dong... The wicked witch is dead... or that's what everybody thought.



Seeing the crowd screaming out their lungs, acclaiming for the end of that young woman that terrorized their life. She was so pretty and yet so deadly. The one that was once the most powerful woman in town, was now standing in front of the peasants. With the rope around her neck, feeling how it sinks against her skin. The knot tightening with each fighting struggle. Dark messy hair, brown eyes and pale skin. It was everything that was left of the great Mary Sibley. 

It was a war, and this time she had lost. Betrayed by her own, those who couldn't handle her power. Her powers had been binded, they knew it was the only way to keep her away. Kill the witch, end with the plague that surrounds Salem. Everybody kept screaming, their hopes it was set on the lies that they wanted to believe. Whatever helps them to sleep at night. 

The brown hues admired the last persons she had trusted on, the ones she thought she could trust, the ones called sisters. 

"Mary Sibley, you have been accused, with irrefutable proof, of witchcraft." the old man spoke, while in his hand he held the long pergamino with all the accusations they had made on her. "Killing infants, innocents and using your powers to torture others. You turned us into monsters. You-" his words were interrupted by a laugh that came from the back of the throat of the black haired woman. "monsters.." she snorted. "I turned this poor and dirty town full of sinners who pretends to be saints into monsters?" she kept speaking, making sure to keep everyone's attention whilst her hands tried to undo the knots around her wrists. "Don't give me that much credit now... I only did what everyone here does... survive without caring about anything else"

The crowd was silence for a moment. Shocked because she had finally spoke, the last weeks they kept her captive she didn't dare to say a single word and now, the tone on her voice sent chills down everybody's back.

Her head tilt for a moment. She had done the best of her fooling by letting them know this was her end; Haven't they heard about how you must no trust a girl with pretty eyes and charming smile? There were still some tricks under her sleeve.

Few days back, the last faithful friend - the only one who actually cared for her - had given her an special gift, The last one she would need, something that would help her out of this situation. Die to be born, that's your gift and your curse. "Kill the witch, end with our misery" the group of girls that once she called sister kept acclaiming, their hoarse voices were the ones who keep cheering for her hanging.