Bellus Corpus
folder
Drama › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
686
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Drama › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
686
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Bellus Corpus
I felt tears in my eyes. Soft, delicate, pearly tears rolling down my sulken checks. I could've sworn I had a mourning chorus for me. This wasn't what I deserved, why couldn't they see that? The cold dewy grass tickled my feet, and it brought my heart to nothing. I would never feel this again. I would never see the wind dance with the trees again. I could never feel the sun's tongue licking my skin warm. This was the end of days for me.
They continued to drag me. I was in complete shock, utter...disbelief. My arms felt numb from were they had the grip on me. My dress was becoming cold at the end, a freeing cold. It was something to feel before I felt no more. The stones of gray looked at me in pity, it seemed, as droplets of rain from the morning before rolled down their sides, tears of sorrow for me. I could see in the weathered stones, the cries they had shed for others.
I prayed for a moment, telling God my feelings. I guess I completed my task God. Tell mother that it's not what it seems, that I would never do that. Tell father that...I love him....and to take care of mother. To Maryanne, my sister...I'll be joinning you soon...very soon, infact....and in my arms, you'll lay forever.
I heard the crowd angry behind me, screaming and shrieking, 'witch!', and other unruly things. I wasn't a murderer...nor a witch...
The skies seem to pity me also, or else the rain wouldn't have joined in this frenzy. It fell light, like showers of mist caressing the dry air. I used to enjoy the rolling of mist outside my home, but they held was faded memories that would soon fall into nothing.
The walk seem to go on for hours, weeks, months. When only, it was minutes. Minutes of life remainning.
The spot where I was taken to was a serene veil of silence. The willow drapped over a sturdy tombstone, with a long cement slab over the ground where my sister lay. I had a perfect view of a broken angel statue not far from here. I was then thrown onto the wet, freezing cement slab. They pulled my arms up behind me, and began tying my wrist together. I lifted my head as much as I could to read the tombstone.
Maryanne Worthington, 11. Beautiful angel, who God missed and called back.
I choked on my tears, as someone pushed my face to the ground. This wasn't right. I struggled, I fought, I screamed, but no one listened. I had to pay for my sins, which I never did. My wet slopping hair fell slightly from it's tight bun, as the cement seem to grow unbearably cold. The rain was pounding on the ground now, creating small puddles in the cemetery. I wanted nothing more then for this to end now.
My sins were called out by a preacher, and I hated him for it. My passion of hate grew as I heard something else. A long sword being drawn. Lord, angels, have mercy on my soul! Jesus, save me, save my heart!
Sobbing came harder for me, I was choking and screaming out. Someone then stepped on my dress, so I couldn't escape. I felt dizzy, I trembled, I weeped, Lord help me!
My prayers meant nothing to them, these men of evil. The sword was raised high, as the rain trailed down to the tip of the sword, the tip for my undoing. "Maryanne, I'm sorry!" I finally howled, "I'm so sorry! I didn't-I couldn't-You know that!" My family I knew were crying for me, my mother was being held back, she would've taken my place.
"May God have mercy on your soul,"
Mercy indeed, God!
The sword came down. It sliced through me. My breath was sucked out, my eyes went wide, then it was like they could barely stay open. I coughed for a minute or two, they didn't bother to end it for me quickly. No one held me. The rain suddenly felt icy. My body grew cold, and my breaths were ragged. I went limp. I shut my eyes, for I could no longer bear seeing her stone. I felt everyone's eyes on me. I felt feathers caress me. Angels were with me. God had saved me. Maryanne was laughing, giggling. My breath was gone.
And I swear, to my own grave....I had a mourning chorus for me, somewhere, hiding the in the cemetery, singing words of a lullaby, or a prayer, whatever it was. They were there. Singing.
They continued to drag me. I was in complete shock, utter...disbelief. My arms felt numb from were they had the grip on me. My dress was becoming cold at the end, a freeing cold. It was something to feel before I felt no more. The stones of gray looked at me in pity, it seemed, as droplets of rain from the morning before rolled down their sides, tears of sorrow for me. I could see in the weathered stones, the cries they had shed for others.
I prayed for a moment, telling God my feelings. I guess I completed my task God. Tell mother that it's not what it seems, that I would never do that. Tell father that...I love him....and to take care of mother. To Maryanne, my sister...I'll be joinning you soon...very soon, infact....and in my arms, you'll lay forever.
I heard the crowd angry behind me, screaming and shrieking, 'witch!', and other unruly things. I wasn't a murderer...nor a witch...
The skies seem to pity me also, or else the rain wouldn't have joined in this frenzy. It fell light, like showers of mist caressing the dry air. I used to enjoy the rolling of mist outside my home, but they held was faded memories that would soon fall into nothing.
The walk seem to go on for hours, weeks, months. When only, it was minutes. Minutes of life remainning.
The spot where I was taken to was a serene veil of silence. The willow drapped over a sturdy tombstone, with a long cement slab over the ground where my sister lay. I had a perfect view of a broken angel statue not far from here. I was then thrown onto the wet, freezing cement slab. They pulled my arms up behind me, and began tying my wrist together. I lifted my head as much as I could to read the tombstone.
Maryanne Worthington, 11. Beautiful angel, who God missed and called back.
I choked on my tears, as someone pushed my face to the ground. This wasn't right. I struggled, I fought, I screamed, but no one listened. I had to pay for my sins, which I never did. My wet slopping hair fell slightly from it's tight bun, as the cement seem to grow unbearably cold. The rain was pounding on the ground now, creating small puddles in the cemetery. I wanted nothing more then for this to end now.
My sins were called out by a preacher, and I hated him for it. My passion of hate grew as I heard something else. A long sword being drawn. Lord, angels, have mercy on my soul! Jesus, save me, save my heart!
Sobbing came harder for me, I was choking and screaming out. Someone then stepped on my dress, so I couldn't escape. I felt dizzy, I trembled, I weeped, Lord help me!
My prayers meant nothing to them, these men of evil. The sword was raised high, as the rain trailed down to the tip of the sword, the tip for my undoing. "Maryanne, I'm sorry!" I finally howled, "I'm so sorry! I didn't-I couldn't-You know that!" My family I knew were crying for me, my mother was being held back, she would've taken my place.
"May God have mercy on your soul,"
Mercy indeed, God!
The sword came down. It sliced through me. My breath was sucked out, my eyes went wide, then it was like they could barely stay open. I coughed for a minute or two, they didn't bother to end it for me quickly. No one held me. The rain suddenly felt icy. My body grew cold, and my breaths were ragged. I went limp. I shut my eyes, for I could no longer bear seeing her stone. I felt everyone's eyes on me. I felt feathers caress me. Angels were with me. God had saved me. Maryanne was laughing, giggling. My breath was gone.
And I swear, to my own grave....I had a mourning chorus for me, somewhere, hiding the in the cemetery, singing words of a lullaby, or a prayer, whatever it was. They were there. Singing.