With clenched fists and pitchforks waved madly about her front gate, Anne was forced to sneaking out of her house in secrecy. Her face covered by her father’s old cloak, she wept silently without cease. Beth had always been envious of her, but to start such a rumour…

Anne hadn’t even made it to the town square when the crowd of peasants had caught up with her. The sight of old neighbours and friends alike, so eager to shed blood, brought more tears to her eyes.

“There she is!” Beth screeched. “There’s the witch!”

Anne struggled in vain, grasped by grimy men twice her weight. She blubbered and her breath became heavier as she was led to the stakes. Beth carried a torch, and happily set Anne ablaze as soon as she was tied to the wood.

“So,” Beth smiled at Edward, standing next to her. “Will you marry me now?”

Edward turned to face her in disgust, his cheeks brimming with salt water. “Why would anyone marry you? You’re the witch, not my beloved Anne. And don’t think I won’t tell all the men about you!”