Before We Were Countries

England

Arthur Kirkland was a relative good looking gent in his opinion, golden blond hair framing his emerald eyes, very pale freckles, and very distinguishable eyebrows; which were not bad, by my standard. Though I looked this way however, I had refused to marry, instead seeking to lead a self explorative life and journey around.

It was nice actually, going from town to town, observing the beautiful sights, the lush green hills, the forbidding evergreen forests... Absolutely beautiful. Until I had happened upon that one town, were smoke hung in the air like a grey cloak over the possibly sunny skies. It was strange to see a town like this in England, but more and more towns had become like this one.. The sight of witch and warlock burnings.

When my brother had first warned me that my odd hobbies might be considered 'magical' I nearly snorted in reply. I had a habit of making salves quite often from clover, mint, and assorted plants; it was all for a good cause however. Lavender salve, if brushed under the nose, would help you sleep well at night.

My brother Scott only gave me a warning look before starting to rant about being careful and so on, and to not be seen. I only had to shake my head up and down a few times to make him reassured.

"'Ello Mr. Kirkland!" My neighbour, Ms. Periwinkle was it, called from her front garden. "Off to do whatever you scholars do nowadays?"

I chuckled in response, motioning to my book. "Oh yes, as you can obviously see I'm doing my studies."

She gave one of her throaty, old laughs before disappearing inside her shack, walking out with the tiny clay pot I'd given her. "Your sleep tonic worked, I feel so much 'younger' than ever today! Can you tell, I think I aged backwards thirty years." I chuckled and she gave a small laugh. "Are you ever going to marry Mr. Kirkland? You've got to be careful around these parts if you aren't, unmarried men, though woman widows more so, are being tested for witchcraft."

I have her a confused look. "All that witch this, warlock that stuff is utter garbage. I think people with power like that would find better things to do then annoy their neighbours." I was slightly worried for her more than myself, she'd lost her husband years ago to the flu; the crazy people these days might want her to burn just for that tiny reason alone.

"I bet your right, it's just a fantastical thing going on. People will resume their everyday lives soon." She pushed the clay pot gently into my palm, murmuring a thank you before walking back into her small cottage. I watched after her for a moment before sighing, continuing on my way and shoving the object back into my coat.

It was a slow walk to the general store, talking to those around; they mostly knew me from my thesis' and scholarly attitude. I had finally made it, walking in before groaning. That 'child', as I called him, was working today.

Why did I call him a child, when he was a grown man? Well, his intelligence was no more developed then a two year old's-- or wait, I didn't want to insult the majority of children out there. But this man was annoying, to top the list of bad traits, and a notorious loud mouth, not to mention influenced all too easily. If I had said the sky was falling, well, he'd think it was time to dig an underground home.

"Top of the morning to you, Arthur." He said, half looking up from a leather book. "Want more books or somethin'?"

I cringed slightly at his misuse of English grammar. "Why yes, is that a problem?"

Marcus just waved him off, going back to his book without a reply. I gave a sigh before going to fetch some flour for his brother, them picking up a quill and ink, and a blank book. I then deposited them onto the counter, putting a few copper pence on the counter before starting to walk out.

"Hey, you didn't pay accordingly! Ya missed a pence!"

"Don't you bother lying to me Marcus." I tried to remain calm, a frown on his face. "I know what I payed. So bigger off."

Marcus growled, muttering a curse before looking back down at his book, waving him to get out. I gladly did, stomping out in a huff. Damn brute .,

While I walked home, a strange smell filtered into my nostrils, alerting me to something burning. I smelt pretty bad, hoping it wasn't my house, since I'd forgotten my books there! I broke into a jog, starting to follow the charcoal smell, before turning to look.

Ms. Periwinkle was collapsed on her knees, tears burning in her eyes as she watched her house burn. Behind her, a few men stood, watching the burning with venomous gazes.