Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery
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by Brom
Read between May 8 - May 24, 2024
6%
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Do … you … understand … your … place?”
Joey Hansen
WHY ARE MEN
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God’s help, she thought. If only I could count on that.
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Lord, you would think I’d shown up with both my diddies a-hanging out.
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I am sick to death of this want to suffer needlessly. Suffering does not bring one closer to God.”
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“You are all naught but a gaggle of clucking cunts!”
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You are worth twice many of the men here.”
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They need a better god.
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It is time to find whatever joy I can in this often far too cruel world.
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Wallace glanced from face to face, could see that they all thought him—him, not her—mad.
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There, Wallace thought, the very Devil tempting me through her wiles.
Joey Hansen
WHY ARE MEN
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“There is no dignity in being tried as a witch. We both know that.”
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And then, as though the mask had been playing a cruel joke on him, the scene changed. The air warped, twisted, then untwisted, and all at once his statue was burning, the air full of smoke. The piercing sounds of screams came to Samson. Huts on fire, the flames licking a night sky. People running in all directions, their faces fraught with terror. Bodies, so many bodies, limbs torn away, guts ripped open, brains splattered. The air thick with the smell of blood and burning flesh and the screams going on and on as though never to stop. Samson saw a shadow cast long by the flames—his shadow, as ...more
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And when you would not drive the people away, would not go against your own nature … they changed your nature.”
Joey Hansen
</3
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And there, for the first time of the entire trial, the magistrate’s smugness fell away and Abitha caught a glimpse of doubt on his face.
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They’d bound the cat in a sack and hung him by the neck. The cat was dead; there was at least that mercy, his suffering done. But she could see by the way the cat’s tongue jutted from his mouth and his one sad eye bulged, it hadn’t been an easy death.
Joey Hansen
NOOOO BOOKA 😭😭😭😭
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“Mother,” she whispered, between sobs. “Mother.” There came no scent of lavender and sage, no sense of her whatsoever. “Please … do not leave me.”
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Their eyes met, and when they did, she gave him a vicious smile. Nay, Wallace, I will not answer your prayers. “Abitha, I will ask you but once—”
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Abitha turned her smile, that fierce, wicked smile, on the magistrate. “It were not Sarah Carter that aided the Devil, good sir. Nay. It were that man yonder!” She pointed at Wallace. “It were his greed that brought the Devil into the fold, his deceit and wanton ways. Tell them, Wallace Williams!” she shouted. “Tell them how you have played them all with your lies, how you have made pact with the Devil so that you could take Edward’s land!”
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But this belief, this absolute conviction that this evil they were doing was good, was God’s work—how, she wondered, how could such a dark conviction ever be overcome?
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A great golden stag strolled out from the trees, an imposing beast with sprawling antlers. It stood proud and majestic. There was no confusion; the moment Samson saw the beast he knew who it was. “It is me,” he whispered, and upon that declaration his view shifted to that of the stag. “I am the stag.”
Joey Hansen
IM IN TEARS
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“Earth was our mother,” Forest said. “And you were our father … the great forest lord. You were the heart of the wilderness, of the wildfolk. You were loved and you were feared. You were life and you were death, doing what was needed to preserve the balance. All part of the cycle of nature, of death and rebirth, of winter and spring.”
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You were the lord of the forest, the balance, and what we did was so against your nature, against Mother Earth herself, that it tore your soul apart.”
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Abitha laughed. “You think me worried about my soul?” She laughed again, loud and fierce, locking blazing eyes on Samson. “I’ve no soul left,” she growled. “They’ve crucified my fucking soul!”
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The serpent closed in, closer and closer, its lethal promise igniting something deep within Abitha’s breast: the primordial need of every creature that has ever been hurt by another—the need to bite back.
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Her mother smiled, as did each of her mothers. Abitha smiled back, and then one by one they faded, yet she still felt their power, their love, and knew they were with her, part of her, and she a part of them.
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“I am not Abitha. Abitha was murdered. I am the witch, and the witch cares not for your tears.”
Joey Hansen
PERIOD
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“Is … is that the Devil?”
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“Aye,” Abitha said. “He set me free.”
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Charity screamed as Abitha slowly carved two deeps cuts across her forehead, forming a bloody L.
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The Devil, old Slewfoot himself, has already claimed you for his own.
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“NO!” Wallace wailed, screaming and shrieking until finally one of the beetles burrowed into his throat, and then he shrieked no more.
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“You enjoy giving people choices. Not very good ones, I would add, but when you are making up your own rules, I guess you can do as you please.
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He howled and began to saw, hacking and sawing, trying to force the blade through the stringy meat, gurgling as hot blood spurted, filling his mouth, as it ran down his throat, gagging, all while trying to scream. With a final hack, he severed his tongue. Holding it up for her to see while he sobbed and retched.
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And there, with her vision fading with every breath, Abitha managed to be astounded by the impossible: a Puritan minister and the Devil praying together, praying to Jesus and Mother Earth and who knew what else, all in an effort to save her. She would’ve laughed long and loud if she but could; instead she coughed and spat up more blood.