Sitting awake by the candlelight at this late hour and turning one last tarot card, may have saved Isabelle’s life, ‘The Chariot’, the card instantly spurs her into action. She considers her options, fight or flight. She tugs a matted black curtain aside, and peers out of the dirty shack window, where she sees the angry faces of other villagers and the town Vicar, all being led to her door by Jacob the district Witch-finder. With sermon in hand and violent determination on their faces, they march, shouting their way towards her front door with burning torches and hate filled minds.
Her breathing is now heavy with anxiety, and Isabelle knows she can’t fight or manipulate this number of people, flight is the only option. She rushes across the room to a small shelf containing various jars and assorted herbs, while rummaging, franticly searching, she knocks numerous obscure items out of place until she finally finds it, a small, corked jar containing a yellow fat like jelly substance. Quickly removing the cork lid which falls to the ground, she dips her two forefingers in and smears the thick substance over her clenched teeth, just as a loud pounding on her door erupts, followed by the shouting Jacob, demanding she come out and face Gods will for the evil deeds that she has done.
Her eyes roll back to whites while she whispers an incantation to herself. That done, she squats down and recovers the cork, slips it back into the jar and stuffs it into the fabric bag that she has now slung across her body. As she stands up, she can feel her body begin to tingle and slightly tremor, then she begins to gently lift, hovering above the ground. Smoke begins to fill the tiny shack, as fiery torches thud on the thatch roof above her, setting it a blaze. As the demands of Jacob continue to bellow, the Vicar reads passages from his bible aloud, adding verbal fuel to the fire of hatred that stirs an already incited mob into a murderous frenzy.
A section of the shacks blazing roof collapses beside her revealing the night sky above, her body lurches upwards, out through the damage and into the night sky. As she appears from the roof cavity, she can see the madness of her attackers. As the shack succumbs to the fire beneath her, she feels the sting of venomous hate spewed words shrieked from their mouths, they’re like a pack of rabid dogs. The moment they see Isabelle hovering above the burning building they turn their spoken rage into action, hurling stones and anything else they can find at her.
While dodging the debris being thrown by her attackers, she suddenly notices the other fire in town, at the home of her friend Abigail a few streets away. Silently and swiftly, she hurtles through the air to her friend’s aid, out of reach above the heads of the crazed mob. At Abigail’s home the embers of glowing fire and acrid black smoke tell a grisly tale. Her only friend is dead, hung by the neck from the old oak tree outside her home. The crazed villagers clearly came to their doors tonight to murder and to murder alone, god’s word has nothing to do with this. Isabelle feels anger swelling inside of her as she releases an enraged shriek at the approaching crowd, ‘they will not take her too’. She farewells Abigail silently, as the crazed mob of killers spill out into the town square opposite, still cursing and throwing stones at her. Hovering, she turns to face them and is immediately struck by a rock which cuts her cheek. She curses them all for their murderous deeds, her scream echoes like thunder through the village, she takes flight into the darkness high above the houses, and speeds away to the dark edge of town. She hears the sudden rumble of horses bounding behind her as Jacob and his men follow in hot pursuit occasionally firing their flintlock pistols wildly in her direction, musket balls whistle past her, until she increases speed and vanishes into the night.
Smoothly and silently she cuts through the night air, her body pushes magically forward low and fast across the wheat fields, her long black dress flutters behind her while ears of grain tap at her bare feet as she hurtles away from farm country and out into the open green fields. The strength of her hastened flight soon begins to diminish, and when she spots a safe place to hide, she gently lands atop a large elm tree. Off in the distance she can see the orange glow of the town, she is filled with sadness and rage, thinking of gentle Abigail, their burning homes and the town she can never return to. Suddenly she notices the slow approach of glowing torches, as her pursuers on horseback search for her in the long grass.
Glancing up to the moon high above, she whispers to it seeking some kind of guidance. In the light of the moon, she sees safety, in the form of a distant black mountain range covered in a vast ancient forest. It is a place Isabelle knows well, she would journey there with Abigail in happier times, collecting herbal supplies and celebrating the change of seasons. Glaring back with anger at the search party that have now scattered around the town outskirts looking for her, she decides that her escape to safety is confirmed, so she thanks the giant elm tree by wrapping her arms around its trunk, removes the mysterious little corked jar from her bag and repeats the flight incantation one last time, before slipping silently away into the misty night.
She speeds across the boggy valley that divides the upper green fields from the black mountain. The mucky bog is several miles of treacherous marshlands, where man or beast rarely venture. While skimming just above the surface, a thick fog rolls in and billows behind her as she races through it. Some time passes before the misty vapour clears, and she finds herself delivered to safety, deep within the dark canopy of the tall trees that grow in that ancient mountain forest. With the village and its people far behind her, she must make a choice, live out her days here in peace in her dark sanctuary, or wreak a sinister and terrible revenge on them all.
Dan Verkys 