⋆✴︎˚｡ 𝒯𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓈 ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒰𝓃𝓈ℯℯ𝓃⋆✴︎˚｡

4th March 1694

Dear stranger,

Just a week ago, I was walking in the woods alone, those dark, menacing woods, those that everyone in the reign warns its danger, its curse, its darkness. Everyone told me to not irrupt into that place that for me was just another creation of Mother Nature in all its beauty and was home to many, but people as soon you’re not like them, they get away from you. Some call you sick, some call you a freak and some call you a witch. They never see how special and unique you are, and you can surely understand, right? I ignored each one of those noisy voices, which only led to ignorance, and stepped into the forest, your forest. I was in a moment when I felt like a total mess. I shouldn’t have been living, breathing. My birth and existence were just a waste of air. So close to what it’s called rotting, I hoped to find peace by returning to my roots, nature. The fresh grass showered by the rain wetted my barefoot feet, the wind tangled my flowy hair and made a part of my worries fly away with the leaves. There was an earthy and wet scent traveling in the air; I could hear just the sound of crickets singing and the drumming of each drop of water. I took a few weak steps forward in the forest, as I proceeded to go further, the sky began to get darker, the clouds to clot all together. There were so many trees that the rain couldn’t even get through the mass of green. Then, I reached a spot where it was just grass, the trees were forming a perfect circle around the area, and this caused the curiosity bomb in me to explode. I ran so confidently until I saw the figure of a woman. It was you. As soon you turned your head abruptly, I hid behind a group of big plants and an oak. When your head turned back at what you were doing, I tried to take a peek to see, and when I did it, I think my eyes got blessed. But not by the Holy Spirit; on the contrary, from love magic.

The first thing I could notice from your appearance was the long wavy auburn hair moving wild and free by the wind, going everywhere on your body, then I saw your long flowy black dress, tightened on your waist by the corset, marking your figure. It didn’t cover your shoulders, which in the kingdom would be a total scandal, you would be called a wench and a whore, and yet you show them so proudly, almost like a sign of rebelty. I admire you for that, I really think you’re a tough and brave woman, I could never do that. Your mug seemed like the one you could see in one of the most beautiful paintings of the king’s royal painters. Sculpted in every detail, from the slim shape of your face to dreamy deep eyes. When you opened them, it felt like opening the door to another portal to another world; they were green as the first leaves of spring, reflecting the calm of a still, emerald pond. For me you were perfect. Next, my eyes fell on what you were doing. There was a white candle in front of you and on the side of it a black one, you took a little stick burning slowly by the tiny flame that you used to lit the white candle, to then close your eyes and stay still for a long time. When the white candle was nearly to the end of totally burning, you took the stick again and lightened the black candle, until now still complete, and after you did the same thing again. I don’t know exactly what happened, what you were thinking while you stayed still and silent, and I don’t either have the knowledge and experience to confirm it, but I think that was a ritual, you were a witch. And I was damn right about it since in the blink of an eye I had you in front of me, clearly seeing that I was hiding and watching all the time. All of it.

Thank God, you didn’t seem angry or annoyed, your expression was just neutral. You offered your hand to me, I grabbed it, and I stood up. Yours was much warmer than mine, enough to make me feel strangely comforted just by your grip around my fist. Your gaze felt so familiar to me, I don’t know why; you’re almost a stranger to me, but when I look deep in you, it feels like we share an old connection. You grabbed my hand and helped me stand up; you didn’t say your name or speak a single word. Just walked back to where you were with me, opening a book near the finished ritual, covered in dark leather, the pages tainted in a brownish color as if they were bathed in coffee, and the sepia black ink dancing in loose cursive writing, in some spaces of the page drawings of moon cycles and symbols that were probably ancient writings. Your red nail, pointy as knife, pointed to a big title I didn’t know how to read, and then the representation of the ritual, tried to symbolize that your intentions were pacific. Then you took your index finger to your lips in a symbol of asking me to stay silent; this had to remain just between us and no one else. I gestured to you that I promised to keep this a secret. I’ve seen in the city’s square various executions of women being tied and burned at the stake, their screams of pain, and how their backs arched in the effort to beg for help and pity for their lives. I knew you by just some minutes, but I don’t want you to go through that.

After that, you let me go back to my place. I walk and as soon as I arrive, I don’t cook, I don’t clean. I just lay in my bed, staring at the roof, realizing what and who I just saw by just casually walking into the woods, and how strange that sounded. Then my eyes just closed to fall into Morpheus’ arms. A week after, while I was gently washing my laundry by the river, in the woods there was a gingerish shadow running between the thick trunks, knowing this was clearly you, but then another shadow passed, following right after you. This created a deep suspicion in me that led to the temptation of leaving everything I was doing in that moment and running again into the woods to see what was happening. The cold breeze covered me as I ran inside the cool shadows, following what seemed much more like a man covered in cloths everywhere. He slightly turned his back to me and right after quickly disappeared when I realized the one following you was now me. We ended up in a dead end, and I felt two strong arms keeping me in place against his body, one arm across my belly and before my chest, the other one around my neck. His dirty, rough hand was holding a rusty, sharp, cold knife, pointing right to my throat, not one millimeter less, not one more. If I moved in the wrong way, it was the end for me. His low, husky voice told me to not even dare to protect “the witch” and just to get my ass out of business that didn’t belong to me. In the panic, my instincts just kicked in, and I kicked his sensitive area so that he took the knife away from me and fell on the ground in pain, holding his painful area. Then I carried you, and we ran away as fast and far as possible until the man wasn’t visible anymore. When we sat on the grass, I was panting heavily in fatigue, and you had on your face an expression mixed between gratitude and confusion. You told me that initially you thought I was the one that told him about you even if I promised, as everyone would do for some high quote of money, but now I saved you from being killed right there, in that place. I had to explain to you that it wasn’t me; probably someone started to search in the woods like I did, and now they found you. I protected you because even if I’ve known you for a very short time, I don’t want to see someone burn at the stake like others did before.

Some days after that episode, I was walking to the square of the town for a quick trip. It was the last day of winter. There should be that usual sharp and penetrating frostiness in the air, the one that runs through your bones and makes you shiver like your body was dancing to the rhythm of the weather. But today, deep in my chest, I feel a warm sensation; the only difference is that it doesn’t belong to love and a melting heart. It’s strange, heavy as a giant was stepping on me, and this couldn’t mean any good. As I got closer to the center of the city, in the surroundings, the old ladies wrapped in patched fabrics, the young ladies doing the house’s chores, the women walking by the streets hand in hand with their husbands, and everyone was whispering flying rumors around the city. I tried to get closer to a group of ladies near my age without being noticed…

“What a scandalous woman, we were right about her…”

“As if it was unnoticeable! What a woman that lives in the woods all by her own and thinks she doesn’t need a man to get far in life could be?”

“Well, even if a girl thinks that and doesn’t want anyone by her side, she lives in an illusion, a beautiful one, but an illusion. If you take that path, it will not be your lack of independence that doesn’t get you far, but it will be the rumors people spread about you.”

“My mother says it’s her fault Uncle Angus died!”

“Oh God, I feel so sorry for you! Hope he found the peace he deserved, Anna!”

I had a minimal hint about what they were talking about, and the warmth in my chest got heavier, but maybe I was wrong and worried for nothing. I should listen more to the conversation. A girl came to the group running in her clumsy clothes and panting hard to get air back…

“Hi! Is it true?”

“What, Isla?”

“The rumors!”

“That they’re burning at the stake the forest’s witch tonight? Yes, it’s true. Didn’t you heard that? It’s the spice of the whole city!”

“I’ve been at home grounded for the week for touching my father’s brand-new sword; I wasn’t updated!”

What did I just heard. There’s no way that imbecile still found the audacity to tell everyone about you, and I wish this didn’t happen from the start, but it doesn’t stop here. I’m telling you step by step. So my pupils contracted in fear, my heart started beating so fast that I could’ve died, my pale skin got even paler, almost like a corpse, and my body began to tremble. This couldn’t be true. And suddenly, I feel guilty too, like it’s in part my fault for getting close to you and exposing you to the population. But at the same time I wanted to think that thanks to me that guy didn’t get you, but if it wasn’t for me, maybe he wouldn’t even have come. Oh God, I’m so confused! Even if I don’t know how to feel, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so incredibly sorry! It’s all my fault; I’m such a mess! I just hope you can forgive me, dear! But now the mistake is done, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I feel so miserable, so powerless. I walked right into the square of the city, and there they were: the tall, imposing wooden stake; the woodworkers were cutting and bringing wood around it, the farmers brought hay, a little pack of matchsticks was abandoned on the cold ground, and the ropes were just waiting to trap their victim.

I didn’t even have time to take my eyes off the stake preparation scene when a shrill scream penetrated my concentration. It was full of raw terror and pure suffering, and it came from a dark and tight street, with guards checking its entrance. Probably, if it was being monitored by royal guards, that was the place where you were taken until the moment. If there was something I could’ve done to make you free or at least see you one last time that wasn’t between the flames of agony, of course, I would take advantage of it. I’ve walked through this place’s streets one thousand times at least since I was a child; I know in which ways to sneak in and get to a whole other point. On the opposite part of the monitored street, there was a big, straight street that took on the left to a really tiny one. Getting there, there were stairs getting down to a way where, going again upstairs, you can get to the inside of the place where you were taken captive without being seen or heard. I popped out of it, and I had the confirmation of your presence by more consecutive screams like the one I’ve heard before, mixed together with quick, harsh slaps, the ones a whip would do. I’ve been hiding in a dark corner like a shadow until I saw more men walking to the way out of the street, and I sprinted volantly to the cell where you were. I entered, and I saw you; the conditions you were in were not the best someone could imagine. Your once calm but alive emerald eyes were now spent and dead, like your life didn’t even wait for the final moment to go away; your pale, beautiful skin had red slap marks and scratches, your ginger hair was messy and full of dirt, and your clothes wee reduced to mere rags. The expression on your face couldn’t express anything but pain and agony. Usually if I saw you, I would have a smile bigger than my face, but seeing you like this wasn’t exactly what I wished for you. I looked deep in your eyes, and seeing that weakness that makes you a human with feelings, I tried to place a little welcoming smile on my face, just enough to make you see that I’m glad to at least see you one last time peacefully and to make you comfortable.

As I smiled, your eyes slightly squeezed in sad expression, your brows curved and tightened together, and your smile turned upside down. You ran to hug me so tight, almost crushing me. I could feel your sadness, rage and need of comfort, like you had been keeping all these inside for such a long time and now you totally exploded in tears, letting it all out. Your tears fell on my skin and fell on my clothes, while you were sobbing, whimpering, and mumbling some things I couldn’t well understand. While the grip of your hug felt like crushing my bones, I held you close by the waist too, slowly making my arms move as if trying to shield you from the pain inflicted upon you, while a tear slid down my cheek in barely contained empathized sadness. You didn’t deserve this; you’re worthy of much more than this mere end. Then you looked me straight in the eyes; you seemed already dead, missing of a soul, and the only word that came out trembling out of your mouth was…

“Why?…”

That made my heart break, like I was watching a little girl in total poverty ask innocently why all of it happened.

“Because people are cruel and ignorant. They fear the unknown. When people see something they don’t know, they’re afraid of it, and they destroy it. Could be beautiful, could be terrifying. They just do it…”

It hurts to say it, knowing it’s the truth, especially in this situation and in front of you. It feels so unreal to live. If seeing someone who’s a stranger to you being burned alive or condemned is absurd, knowing you’re going to see a person you care for brutally die in front of your and others’s eyes like a theater show is even worse. We sat on the ground, cuddling each other in search of comfort, while I kissed your scars, as long as we could, trying to taste every second of it. We knew our private time together was finished when we started hearing heavy steps from outside. I was going to say a simple goodbye, but before I could, I felt your soft lips giving me a sweet and small kiss. You pulled away for an instant, only to then devour me. But it wasn’t lustful; it spoke of love, raw passion and sweetness, the feeling of your lips on mine felt like death and a blow of life at the same time. Like that heavy feeling in my chest flew away free like a dove and my soul left my body. When we both opened our eyes, the gaze of passion and love was indistinguishable, a connection tied from the deepest of our existence. But we were interrupted by the irruption of the guards, running to me with violence and threatening intentions. I could only whisper one last thing to you…

“I love you, always remember it!”

And then I had to run away from there before they could catch me and make me pay for what I just did. Now the only thing I could do was go home and wait until I had to get out again to see your last moments in this world. Just thinking of it makes my heart feel like it has been penetrated by an arrow, and not Cupid’s one. I walked with a fast step straight to my house, between the cold breeze of winter, making my skin go paler than it already is and my body slightly tremble. As I entered my kitchen, I stopped silently at the entrance of it. I didn’t want to eat; the only thing I could’ve felt in that moment was anguish and sadness, so I went in my bedroom, got under the soft sheets, and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I could just wonder why this feels like a curse. Every time I get attached to someone, they disappear, for one cause or another. My dad died during a hunting trip when another hunter that was there confused him for an animal and shot him. I was just 4. My mom, she cought tuberculosis, and for how much she fought to keep going and take care of me and my siblings until the end, death doesn’t make exceptions for anyone, and she died. I was 6. Then, as the last my siblings. I was forced to watch them die of hunger right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything since I was just a kid. I had to see how they slowly got weaker and thinner. I had to hear their cries and begs for care and food. Even just for a bit of love, I tried my best, but a sister’s love is not the same as a mother’s, especially if the sister was just a little kid too. They died just a week and a half after my mom died. At that point I was alone and miserable. I had to raise myself and fight to keep going on when I was supposed to be playing and laughing like any other kid I saw in the streets, and that I was tremendously jealous of. If this happened to my family, I wouldn’t even imagine falling in love with someone! That’s what I thought, and it became reality. Sometimes I think I should die. Just die. I can only take death by the hand wherever I walk. I’m a plague, and I don’t deserve to be here ruining others’s fun. Then I fell asleep.

I woke up; outside it was evening, and I knew what was coming. With a strong taste of vomit on my tongue, I forced myself to get nice and ready and walk again to the city’s square, where one of my most intense memories will be forever pinned. When I arrived, the stake was ready, all the wood meticulously positioned, and the hay circling the scene, the square was filled with people of all ages, from babies in their mothers’s arms to elders, all waiting for their show like kids at the circus waiting for the clown to come out and make their last trick for the night. As the full moon came on the sky, fully disposed above us, the guards circled the scene, and two walked in holding you tight, leading you to the stake where one of them was holding thick ropes to tie you to it. The moment was so close, I couldn’t believe I was seriously living and seeing this. As soon as the guard tied you, everyone started screaming “Burn the witch!” like a mantra, but a man calmed them.

“All right, calm down! Tonight we’re here to celebrate another one of the Devil’s prostitutes burning until she’s back in the hell she was born!…”

The man turned to you and said with a grin on his face…

“What are your last words, witch?”

I could see the terror and resignation in your eyes, the way you felt disgust at the sadistic joy coming from that man.

“My only sin here was to fall for a sincere and human woman, not witchcraft nor following the wrong path. I just wanted to live in peace and love, as your dear Lord tells you, but it seems like you’re too much of a hypocrite to admit it. My last words are… For how short it was, I love you, Eira!”

That felt like a hit straight to the heart. You love me. You love me. While you said it, you were looking straight in my eyes with the most loving gaze you could give me but also telling me goodbye. Forever. Everyone was in a state of pure scandal. I could see how you were enjoying creating one last chaos before dying. Rebellion to religion. Giving the hypocrites to the church. A woman loving a woman. Pure and real scandal to those brainwashed people. It was great. You were great. As everyone started to scream to burn the witch once again, I shed my first tear, smiling at you while you did the same one last time. The moment was now; it was happening. The man lit a matchstick and dropped it in the wood and hay. Everything was burning so quickly, the flames were getting higher and higher, the heat was incredible, and everything was so intense. The flames were starting to burn you too; you were clearly in pain, but a thing I loved was that you were holding back your screams to not let them have the satisfaction of hearing your pain; you just kept smiling tight. My tears were running faster than a river, my eyes were red and swollen, and my body couldn’t do it anymore. I felt like I didn’t have the strength to stay up. In just a question of seconds, the only thing remaining of you was a burned body, black as charcoal. The men took you away, and I can suppose they buried you, at least I hope.

When I’m writing now, it’s the day after all this happened, and all I can feel is anguish, depression, and numbness. I understood that I can’t love anyone in this life without killing them. Life without love is pointless. Even though I didn’t knew your name, your age, your story and you were just a stranger to me; I felt like destiny always wanted us to be together, but also was so cruel to do it at the wrong time. If you didn’t understand, this is my suicide letter. If reincarnation exists, then I’ll hope to see you again and for you to read this letter, and if the underworld or hell exists, then we’ll see each other there, as suicide is a sin. Always remember it: I love you, and it shall be forever.

Yours truly, Eira.