My first contribution to the Friday Fictioneers group on WordPress
‘Why are you going?’ asked her best friend Lynn. ‘The woman’s dead. Isn’t that enough?’
But Ellen went, though she felt uncomfortable intruding on a family’s grief.
The nun who was their form teacher had come to see her in the hospital, back when Ellen’s pain was fresh and raw.
‘God works in mysterious ways, my child,’ she said piously. ‘Better that the innocent little infant did not live to be branded by your mortal sin.’
The pale drapes in the crematorium reach towards each other.
Closure, thought Ellen. That’s why I came.
That, and to know the witch burned.
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