A Witchy-Sapphic short story
For the first time, my short story “Erroneous Charge” is available online, outside the Judicial Homicide anthology.
Some people deserve to die for the things they've done. In a few cases, the law runs its course, and the execution is carried out in the clinical environment of a state prison. But in other cases, everyday men and women have to take matters into their own hands. And they don't always get it right.
"Erroneous Charge" is the story of a wrongly accused witch and a town who wishes to burn her at the stake.
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A breath hitched in her throat as a tongue, dominant and seasoned, dipped between her thighs and found the bud that had been nervously waiting for it. Sarah Roberts had never been with a woman before that day, though she had wanted to ever since she laid eyes on Whitley Blaylock when she came into town.
Whitley was dark, mysterious, and captivating; not like the other young women in town with their pink poodle skirts and light blue sweater tops which accentuated their plentiful breasts. Even Sarah dressed in the typical fifties fashion with a wasp waist with full skirt and a scarf tied around her neck. So when Whitley strolled into the small Midwest town with her black hair and a wardrobe to match, eyes turned and not in a favorable way.
Whispers began, especially when the town found out that two unmarried women lived together. The other woman was older, but they looked nothing alike other than being wearing black dresses that reminded folks of the depiction of witches from a long-gone era. There was talk. Rumors abound. Folks had complained of house pets going missing. Livestock found with their innards scatted in the field. Although there was no proof the two women were involved, the police had knocked on their door more times than not when someone filed a complaint.
It had gotten to the point that anytime Whitley came into the small downtown of Main Street, folks dashed to the other side of the street to keep their distance to a woman they called a witch.
Sarah, on the other hand, had found herself drawn to the mysterious one, like Whitley had cast a spell on her, a hypnotic desire that became an obsession. At night, Sarah found herself dreaming of this woman and touching herself while doing so. She had even gone to the town library, researching ridiculous love potions and enchantments which she tried at midnight when her household slept. During the day, this bizarre attraction had Sarah following Whitley throughout the town, hiding in the shadows just to get close enough to cast an incantation on her.
Each time, those words blew away in the wind until the day Sarah had given up all hope of a charming the so-called witch. That’s when Whitley startled her from behind when she wasn’t on the prowl.
“Why are you following me?” Whitley asked.
The words had stumbled forth like a puzzle coming out of a box to be pieced together. “I. Don’t know. It’s. You’re so. I’m sorry. Go. Yes. I should go.”
Whitley reached out and grasped her wrist. A bold move for someone the town feared. The gold flecks in her green eyes sparkled as she licked her lips. “Instead of going, you should come.”
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