It all started one week ago, when I was in the town square with some of my friends.
The two sisters stood across the square from me, both very pretty. They were perfect in everyway, but still not safe from the gallows, as many girls would accuse them of witchcraft because of jealousy.
One looked at me, and then, out of nowhere, I tripped over nothing and fell flat on my face.
As I stood up, the other met my eyes, and again, I tripped, as if by magic… or witchcraft.
That night, I gazed out of the window, and saw both sisters, walking along the path through the woods, and decided I had to confront them and hope for the best.
When I eventually caught up with them, I declared, "Witches! Stop there!"
They both turned quickly.
"Whatever do you mean?" one said.
"You both made me trip! You are both witches! I shall tell my father!" I replied, daring them to challenge me.
The other witch spoke up, "But witches are hung! We are not witches!"
"You are!" I said, and then noticed what I stood right next to. A deep well, I supposed.
"You wouldn't want to see us hung!" the first witch said.
"Yes, I would!" I am the Mayor's son, and I have seen my fair share of witches hung in my not-so-long life.
"Please!" the witches had resorted to pleading.
"I shall run to my house to tell my father's men to tie two new nooses at once." I tell them.
"Please, no!" the witches are crying.
I nodded, "You are definitely witches, did you not hear that noise?"
"Sir! She has a cold!" the sister claimed.
I snorted, "She is a witch! As are you!"
Both witches were crying, sobbing even, but I took no notice.
"I'm going home at once to get my father!"
"You can't! My mother is ill! We have to look after her!" the sneezing witch gave me a push into the blackness of the well.
I clung to the edge, struggling to stay up.
"We're sorry, but we have to do it. We just can't die." The other witch whispered in my ear, and they both prise my fingers off the edge.
I'm falling, falling, falling.
Nobody can help me now…