The frenzy had been electric; I moved with the mass towards the market square where the burning was to take place. I had never heard of a night trial. We were called by the master to leave what we were doing and attend the meeting house. I was late; I slipped into a seat at the back and listened attentively to the proceedings. Widow Browne was standing in front of the main desk I could see she was shaking and playing nervously with her apron.

'Widow Browne you are accused of witch craft,' boomed James Arnold, the leader of our community, ' What do you have to say for yourself?'

Silence fell on the assembly as they waited for her reply. She said nothing. After a few seconds a murmur of voices built to a crescendo.

'Widow Browne I ask you again; have you been practising witch craft?'

James Arnold stared at her for any evidence in her eyes that might betray her and convince him he was justified in exercising his duty according to the law. He raised his hand to quell the murmur.

'Widow Browne you will be taken from this place and burnt at the stake and may God have mercy on you.'

The fire lit the night sky casting a glow on each face. I saw both hatred and satisfaction on their faces. After the screams from Widow Browne and the smell of burning flesh, the crowd drifted to their homes satisfied that evil had been conquered.

* * *

Early next morning there was a heavy oppressive atmosphere gripping the town it seemed to cling to everything. Town folks moving along the cobbled streets averted their eyes from the pile of ashes in the market square. A slight breeze whipped up some of the debris like dancing snowflakes; where it settled on clothing people were quick to brush it off. It was a tell tale sign of their condemnation. The excitement of the previous evening had long disappeared, those that spoke kept to hushed tones.

Leaving my house I walked towards the market square, a strange green light was dawning across the sky. I stopped to look closer it was something I had never witnessed before. I felt cold; I pulled my jacket tighter. A small crowd had gathered on the steps of the meeting house I could see fear in their eyes.

‘What’s happening?’ I asked.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ said a wizened old lady, ‘We are all being judged for the deeds of last night.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The evil spirits are gathering; I’ve seen this before many years ago. They will take their revenge mark my words.’ She turned from me and shuffled away.

I entered the meeting house. There was a hive of activity; officials ran from room to room, James Arnold looked anxious.

‘What are we to do?’ he demanded.

‘There is only one thing we can do. We have to offer sacrifice to the spirits in atone for the death. If we don’t the entire town will be destroyed,' I said.

‘Couldn’t we pretend it never happened?’ he pleaded.

‘Have you looked outside? I’ve only read about the revenge of the spirits I’ve never seen it. I’d say you don’t have much time.’

At that moment there was a tremendous clap of thunder and screaming from those in the square.

‘It’s started.’ We moved to the window overlooking the square.

'Where is God? We are a Christian community,' shouted James.

I turned to see a green vapour envelop James Arnold; one minute he was there the next he had vanished.