Master North spears the fire with a poker, sending sparks flying.
I lick my lip, feel cracks like chasms. When did I drink last? Time slips away like hot grease.
He looks to me, the glow of the rush light turning his nose to a hook. ‘Who else was at Grimmin’s Hill?’
The bodkin slips twixt his fingers.
I know who pointed that beak my way. I’ve kept my peace so far, faced Hell alone. But that bodkin could find other flesh to punish …
‘I saw Goody Huggins was with the Devil. I saw Goody Wallace with the Devil …’
Written for Nortina’s Moral Mondays. See the moral – this week it’s Judge not lest you be judged – and write a suitable post.