Never kill a witch's cat!

“I’m a witch.”

“You’re a what?”

“I’m a witch, Rosalie. You have to leave now!”

“You’re not a witch, Sadie. I’m quite sure you…”

“I am! And they know…”

“They being..?”

The witch-hunters banged on the door. I pushed Rosalie out the back way and waited for them alone. The heavy oak kept them back for a few minutes, and then they burst in. Five well dressed men tumbled in first with more soldiers behind.

One of them killed my cat.

He put a knife straight through her little, black head and then cut her throat while she was still alive. The arterial blood splattered the wall. It sprayed my face and my dress, turning my white apron to a deep crimson.

I felt the anger rise.

A soldier grabbed a wooden mallet from my table and smacked the head of my rabbit. He crumpled, legs convulsing as his body shut down.

A soldier came at me.

“We’re arresting you on charge of witchcraft.”

I hit him in the face. Then, I summoned the spirits and let them finish the job.

“You should not have killed my pets.” I said.

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