~ part eight ~
“I smelled rotting flesh first,” Em smiled. “It was probably George rotting somewhere below.”
“Your first physical experience was the stench of me?” George laughed.
“True love,” Isaac said. Em and George laughed. “What happened next, Grandmother?”
“First the awful smell,” Em said. “And then I could hear things: the wind in the stand of Oak trees, the North River spilling into the bay, crickets, and animals moving in the dark. I’d lost my right eye in the hanging and . . . Well, there was nothing to see. I was under Alice, no Ann. I wiggled and moved and shoved and . . . Suddenly, the moon shone, and there I was — sitting in a crevice on the barren hill above town next to the bay.
“I reached for Ann, and she woke with a scream. I mean, we still looked like we’d been hanged. Our heads were like watermelons — bruised — our tongues hanging out. Our garments were soiled with the release brought by death. We couldn’t speak. Alice woke next and Mary Ayer. We were horrified to be awake and terrified of being found out. Always the doctor, Ann got us to wash on the edge of the bay. Sam woke, Margaret . . . I think Wilmot — no Mary woke last. By that time, we had a kind of assembly. Ann took them to the water. I helped stick their tongues in, straighten their heads, things like that.”
“Your necks didn’t break?” Isaac asked.
“Short drop and a slip knot,” George said. “It took us more than ten minutes to suffocate to death. It’s why they put the bag over our heads. They didn’t want to see our faces turn purple.”
“A couple of us had heart attacks,” Em said.
“And still came back?” Isaac asked.
Suffer a Witch continues...