The rope had been tossed over a sturdy limb from the ancient oak. The noose drawn taunt, hands tied behind her back and legs bound at her ankles. Martin made eye contact with those gathered, making certain none were about to betray him and back out of this necessary execution. Each man nodded, assuring him they would abide by his wishes. A mere nod didn’t satisfy Martin. He called each by their name and asked them to verbally commit. Hang her…hang her…each and everyone repeated those words without the slightest bit of hesitation.

Still, Martin needed more; he trusted no one and would not be blackmailed later. He pulled the parchment paper, a sharp pen knife and a quill from his coat. He spelled out his instructions. Each of his accomplices, executioners in this particular case, would prick their fingers, using the quill and their blood, would then sign the agreement, binding them to this decision.

Each man did as instructed, no questions asked, none opposing his request. Fear can be a powerful motivator. Martin read the names aloud: A.B. Abram, Abe Bergmann, Joseph Herzberg, Horatio Thomas, Zachariah Hanson. Satisfied, he signed his name last, Martin Kravis. He folded the paper and placed it back inside his coat. He then ordered every man to grab hold of the hangman’s rope.

“On this day, May 17, 1890, I curse the soul of Margarett Levine Reznik. May she burn in hell for eternity for what she has done. She has betrayed each man, now her executioner. You will be laid to rest in an unmarked grave in a secluded location and shall share the maggot infested earth with those not worthy of recognition or descent burials. Gentlemen, hang the witch.”

Margarett Levine Reznik vaguely gained consciousness to eye the six bastards one last time. She etched their memory in her mind and silently cursed them one last time. Death came quickly; the rope around her neck had hanged her dead, twenty one years old this very day.

“Happy birthday, Margarett. Now bury the bitch,” spoke Martin. “Bury her deep. May your rotting flesh never see the light of day, you worthless whore.” He then spat on her corpse and kicked dirt in her bluish discolored face. Justice had been served. Let no man question the verdict.

“The witch knew who had killed her and she snatched pieces of time, here and there, from the business of dying, to make her revenge.”
― Kelly Link, Magic for Beginners

 

 

The auburn haired Emma ‘Lou’ Stetson, forty five, of medium height, build and weight, could blend into most any crowd, if not for her bubbly personality. No denying it, when she graced any landscape with her presence, it made for a better place for all who occupied the same turf. Her friends said she reminded them of the more mature version of Sally Fields.

Lou possessed natural beauty, rarely ever wearing any serious makeup. Plus, it was too expensive and time consuming, said she. Like me or not, I am who I am, you can’t pretty up perfection, she would often quote in jest. Her great love, other than her husband, Wade, was the great outdoors. Greenwood, South Carolina had been their home since their introduction into this world. Both grew up knowing one another, living in the same neighborhood, same street, and just four houses apart.

Friends forever, it made eventual matrimony a piece of cake. They hadn’t known they were in love until after both had graduated college; Lou from Clemson and Wade from the University of South Carolina, a house divided when it came to college choices in the Palmetto state. Lou and Wade always made a friendly wager when the two football programs clashed at season’s end. There were no losers.

Lou would soon face a battle for her life and winning would mean losing but she must win at all cost.