Rebecca Smythe: Witch in Training || ONC 2021

Becky the Accused

Rebecca Smythe surveyed the small prison. By Shettlewood's real estate standards, the space was actually rather cozy. She could imagine the town crier announcing it in the daily advertisements.

Cell for Rent

Furnished One- Bedroom with Adjoining Chamber Pot

Central Location (a short walk to the nearest gallows)

Affordable Short Term Rentals Available

Rebecca sat on the long wooden bench- the only concession to her comfort that the space made. The emotion associated with her death sentence had yet to manifest. She found herself numb, sitting with the sterile fact of it. How could anyone possibly think that she, Rebecca Smythe, was a witch? Until this morning when Baron Clark had publicly accused her of possessing his cat, Rebecca had led a truly unremarkable life. She was so thoroughly nondescript that she was often mistaken for any number of the other village girls. In a town of two thousand, the level of anonymity that Rebecca had sustained was something of an achievement.

"Becky!" she heard a voice hiss. She stood abruptly, hitting her head on the cell's low ceiling.

"Liza is that you?" Becky rushed to the bars on the far side of the cell. By the light of a single sputtering torch in the corridor beyond, she could see her best friend. Liza's normally boisterous curls had adopted a somewhat deflated appearance in the damp prison.

"You could get in trouble for being down here!" Becky admonished, though truthfully she was grateful to see a familiar face.

"They let me come to see you but I have to be fast. Becky, I can't tell you how sorry I am that this is happening." Liza burst into tears. Rebecca felt her sense of numbness intensify. She felt vaguely sorry for Liza but couldn't muster up any truly mournful feelings of her own. "Anyone who knows you is well aware that you aren't a witch and if Judge Andrews had any sense he would see your innocence clearly." Liza's speech dissolved into frantic gasps and Rebecca couldn't fight the urge to comfort her.

"Liza, you're getting tears all over your dress." They probably weren't the most comforting words she could have uttered but for a woman just sentenced to death Rebecca thought she was holding it together rather well. Liza's panicked breathing eased slightly.

"I just don't understand why Baron Clark would make the accusation in the first place," said Rebecca. Baron Clark owned most of the land to the west of the town of Shettlewood and Rebecca had never actually interacted with him before today.

"You know the Beeker boy you've been making eyes at?" Liza lowered her voice and brought her blotchy face closer to the bars of the cell. "He and Elizabeth Clark just announced their engagement. I think Elizabeth wanted you out of the picture so she had her father accuse you of witchcraft." Rebecca's eyes widened. Was she really going to be burned at the stake because Elizabeth Clark, of all people, was jealous? It was true that she fancied Theodore Beeker and she had almost convinced herself that he fancied her also. At least he had remembered her name after only one introduction. Sure she had heard rumors about an attachment between Theodore and Elizabeth but this hadn't deterred her from the occasional flirtation. If anything she had allowed herself the occasional feelings of superiority. Rebecca was of the opinion that Elizabeth, with her beady, wide-set eyes and wispy hair, resembled a billy goat. She never thought Elizabeth would use her abundant resources to this absurd degree. Rebecca's outrage must have been evident for Liza began sobbing once more.

Rebecca reached through the bars and brushed the tears from Liza's cheeks. "You are the best friend I could ever have asked for. Now you must promise me something." Liza's face grew instantly serious as she awaited instruction. "Don't come to the execution tomorrow. Stay at the farm in the morning with Cline. I would hate to think of you watching me...watching the event tomorrow."