As of right now my wordcount stands at 16822. So you can tell that the past few days of writing haven’t gone very well. To be honest I’ve been a little depressed and anxious this week, but I haven’t stopped writing completely, and for that I’m proud of myself.
Still as far as updates go I don’t have much to say, so I’ll just leave this small snippet and get back to writing. 🙂
We head to the market and I am able to wash my arms and hands off in the cool fountain. I sigh happily then pull out our lunch. There’s a hubbub of noise behind us, more so than usual apparently because Leela stands up on tiptoes to get a look at what’s going on.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Let’s get closer.”
I look at the crowd that’s starting to gather with suspicion, this is why I like things on our island better. Less people, no strangers.
“Come on Mara.” She says, grabbing ahold of my arm and dragging me into the middle of the crowd.
When we finally realize what’s going on I feel a sickening dread wash over me. It’s a public execution. And not just any execution. They’re burning a siren.
The woman is tied to a large stake and surrounded by driftwood and brambles. Even in her dirty and disheveled state she’s beautiful. Her hair is a copper color, and her face is pale, her cheekbones flushed. She’s crying. They say sirens cry like alligators do, the tears are never real, just a show to make you feel sorry for them. Still I can’t help but feel sorry for her.
“I wonder what she did.” Leela says in a tone that means she’d like to be sitting, talking gossip with the women of the island.
I shake my head but say nothing.
A priest in a long black robe steps up, holding a torch aloft, “We are here to execute right and fair justice upon this demon temptress. Many men has she caught in her spells, some of them even now wait on their deathbeds to be released from her. May the gods forgive her!” And with that he lights the fire at her feet.
The fire burns quickly, the wood snapping and a part of her dress has now caught on. Smoke billows up into her face and she coughs and struggles against her bonds. Then the screaming starts. I feel sick and push my way back out of the crowd. Leaning against the side of a house I empty the contents of my stomach and find that I’m crying softly.
How is your writing going? How’s your cabin this year?