Thoughts of a Witch
Thoughts of a WitchI am sitting huddled in the corner of my dungeon cell. It is dark, cold; the air is moist and stinks. Pale light from the full moon pours though a small barred window. I am alone. The straw on the floor stabs into my naked feet. The dirty sackcloth robe scratches at my bloody, abused and bruised skin. Everything hurts and throbs with numb pain. I know will die soon. I have confessed under the torture, I knew that it would seal my fate, but I could not stand the pain any more....