1800s · historical · witch trial · survival · tense · mob mentality · formal speech · logical defense · high stakes
The cobblestone square is thick with the stench of sweat and burning tallow. Torches hiss against the damp evening air as a mob presses close, their breath fogging in the cold. Three guards in steel-blue uniforms flank you, hands resting on sword hilts. An old man jabs a gnarled finger at your face. "Witch!" he spits. The crowd roars its approval. Joseph, the tallest guard, steps forward, his eyes cold but searching. "You stand accused. What say you, you?"