“INTRUDER!”
Unexpectedly, Vendetta felt her body moving towards the middle of the enclosure. At that moment, she knew there was little hope for her getting out of the woods alive. She had heard terrible stories about witches boiling children alive. How she wished she could shoot herself; however morbid it might appear, it would be over with quickly. She shot a glance at the middle witch’s eyes and saw the look of pure evil mixed with excitement. Vendetta was still levitating in mid-air and was starting to believe that they would never let her down. When the witches spoke to each other they spoke in a weird language that Vendetta didn’t understand. They looked up at Vendetta and attempted to communicate with her in this foreign tongue. When she didn’t reply they looked puzzled, then the younger witch poked a branch in her neck that appeared to translate what they were saying into English.
“You have trespassed among our ancestors’ graves, for this you will pay with your life,” the branch explained in a husky, croaky voice.
“I didn’t even know that there were graves in the woods,” Vendetta answered, “I would never have been disrespectful. Perhaps there is something I could pay with instead of my life? I have just received a large sum of money from my late father, I’m sure it would cover any damages I made.”
“There is no need for money, we have everything we would ever need. Except for some new ingredients, if you brought us these then we might come to an agreement on the situation of your life.”
“That sounds reasonable, a few ingredients for my life.”
However, in her mind Vendetta was rather puzzled that witches would give such value to some herbs and oils.
“What ingredients do you need? Tea-tree oil? Witch hazel?”
“Don’t be so stupid child, we have plenty of those. What we desire has much more value than a couple of twigs. In exchange for your freedom, you are to get the liver of a blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat and finger of birth-strangled babe ditch-delivered by a drab. When –IF– you get these things and only these things we will, perhaps, let you leave. Now GO child, and be warned, you have one month to collect these.”
Vendetta awoke outside the forest and on the path to the Jewish cemetery.
“Liver of blaspheming Jew,” Vendetta looked at the sky and whimpered.
She realised that the only Jewish grave she could get anywhere near would be her father’s, and how could she dig up the man that had raised her single-handedly without a mother? Picking up a shovel, she looked at her reflection in the pail. What has she become? Her mother would be ashamed if she was alive. Everyone knew that grave robbing was a sin but she was sure her parents would rather she was alive. She then thought about her younger brother, Mathew. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked into the water.
“WHAT SHOULD I DO?” Vendetta whispered. As she raised her head, with her eyes still firmly shut, she felt a sudden increase in the temperature and sensed a presence.
“Open your eyes,” whispered a comforting voice that Vendetta could only remember in her dreams.
She was sure that once she opened her eyes everything would be all right. But was this all a dream? She hadn’t seen her mother in so long, was it possible her mind was now playing tricks on her? Whatever the reality of the situation, Vendetta wanted to make the most of her time with this spirit.
“OPEN YOUR EYES FOR GOODNESS SAKE CHILD!” roared a less friendly voice.
She wasn’t so sure about opening her eyes now. But she knew that if she didn’t open her eyes soon, she would be regretting it in a week or so. Slowly, but unsurely, she lifted an eyelid to catch a glimpse of, what she hoped to be, her mother. Unfortunately she was greeted with a draught of cold air and found no one to be standing near her. Confused, Vendetta shut her eyes once more.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SAID OPEN YOUR EYES NOT SHUT THEM!” The voice exclaimed once more, and then Vendetta started to catch all her worst nightmares appearing at once.
Her mother’s torture at the stake was re-enacted once more before her eyes and she had to be put through the agony of seeing her father and brother bleeding to death after being stoned by the Christians.
After five long minutes she managed to open her eyes, all the images from her mind had gone. Then after a short gasp for air, Vendetta fell to the ground in one short move. The lucid spirit lifted her soul towards him and muttered something like a chant or song. Unexpectedly the sky opened before them and pulled her lifeless body towards the atmosphere. Other mourners in the graveyard seemed confused and mystified at the sight of a body floating towards the sky that had torn in two before them.
Worried that this precious experience would torment them in later life, the spirit quickly erased any memories from the public before things got out of hand. Vendetta’s eyes fluttered as she gently opened them to find herself being pulled towards her own interpretation of heaven.
“Excuse me? But where are we going?” Vendetta stuttered.
“It’s alright Vendetta, my sweet, Mother’s here now.” A soft, warm voice replied.
Vendetta felt her eyelids become increasingly heavy and found herself falling into a deep sleep.
“That’s right darling,” the voice cackled, “We'll be seeing you very soon.”