Dating : The ground was cold, and so was the body strewn across it.

The ground was cold, and so was the body strewn across it. When Mrs. Baines walked to the well early that morning, she hadn’t expected to find her son with his skull caved in, lying face down on the earth, the thick branch of a tree thrown on top of him like it had fallen from the sky.

The townspeople cared for her as best they could, the doctor gave her a sedative, and some of the men went to the sight of the incident to see what they could uncover. The cause of death was obvious — tree branch to the head. The wound began behind the left ear and appeared to slant diagonally downwards to the right, but they couldn’t be sure- the whole skull was cracked open like an Easter egg. The men began to worry. It had been several months since the last death, and the worst thing that could result from this one would be a frenzy — there could be no finger pointing. There weren’t enough of them to survive another witch trial.

Mr. Cain shook Evelyn awake that morning; there were tear tracks down her face and her curled form was dense and rigid. He hated to tell her the news after she’d obviously had some sort of nightmare, but there was no avoiding it. She cried when he told her, but after a few minutes she picked herself up and muttered something about visiting Catherine.

~

Holden and Bishop sat next to each other on a raised platform in the front of the church. Heads bent together, they whispered quietly, Holden’s long white hair shielding their faces. People filed in the tall mahogany double doors and seated themselves in the pews, somber and quiet. Some glanced hopefully towards the platform looking to catch the eye of one of their Elders, but neither looked up. They were still deep in conversation.

“The boy can’t go next to his father,” whispered Bishop. “I’ve spoken to Pastor Black, he says there is an ideal spot next to Delia Cain.”

“I know, I know…we’ll have to tell Anne Baines this afternoon. It’s a shame, I wish we could offer her the comfort.”

“If we offer her the comfort we’ll have to offer the next family the comfort and the one after that and before you know it the graveyard is in total disarray.”

“Yes, Bishop, I understand, I just hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Holden muttered.

“You really aren’t the bearer, these rules have been in place for years…” Bishop answered, somewhat annoyed. “I understand she’s just lost her son, but she’s not the first and she surely won’t be the last. He’ll be buried with the Tragic Accidents and that’s all.”

“Insensitivity, Bishop…”, Holden turned her head and studied the crowd gathering before them. “I will announce the cause of death — ”

“As you should…” muttered Bishop under his breath.

“ — as head Elder: The wind blew a tree branch into the back of his head as he went to get a drink in the middle of the night.”

“Believable as it can be,” Bishop conceded, looking down his long nose at the gradually filling room.

“Now, who do you think did it?”

“There’s no way of knowing yet,” Holden answered, “No point in guessing. If we do I’m sure they’ll sense it. The less we suspect, the less they’ll suspect. We proclaim Tragic Accident, the people Gather, and love rises.”

“They will never think anyone here is capable of this. We’ve done well. They have softened…” Bishop whispered, gazing across the congregation, satisfied.

Holden smiled gently.

“Indeed.”

She rose before her people, raising her hand towards the sky, and all eyes were upon her.

~

“’Cause of death — falling branch at Barnett well. Gathering tonight at eight o’clock to celebrate the life of Andrew Baines.’” Catherine read aloud from the announcement delivered to every home in the Village. Evelyn sat at the wooden table in the Ash’s kitchen, picking stems off berries in a bowl before her. She stared expressionlessly into space as her hands worked. Her eyes still stung. Her thoughts drifted to the results of this loss — two years of mourning clothes, two years of sorrowful Gatherings, two years of allotted time for death to surround them and suffocate them in darkness. And, of course, another excuse to fixate themselves on what “the human spirit is capable of”.

“My father said the fracture was across the back of the skull,” said Catherine, turning from the huge oven fire to face Evelyn.

“Oh? Could the wind have blown it…?”

“No. Evelyn. No.”

They knew.

“Someone did this,” Catherine whispered, her black skirt swishing against the stone floor as she sat beside Evelyn on the wooden bench. She grasped Evelyn’s arm tightly, and the fear denied to them all escaped from her stare.

Evelyn pulled away quickly with a nervous glance at the window.

“Don’t. You don’t know who could have been there,” she motioned to wood framed panels in the wall, whispering. “No one is…who would have…we can’t say these things, Catherine.”

She tried to wipe the berries’ red stain from her hands as Catherine rose and pushed the latch across the door.

“It was an accident, Catherine. A tragic accident.”

Catherine didn’t seem to be listening. She paced across the room to the fire, sporadically back towards the window, across the room, again and again, the early morning light slanting through the waves in the glass.

“Harry Baines. I think it was Harry.”

“What? Why would Harry have…? His brother Catherine…you don’t know what you’re saying…”

“He hated him after what he did.”

“’What he did’? So they had a disagreement. They’re brothers, everyone does,” Evelyn recited the words the Elders taught every child born in the Village. “We disagree, but we are merciful and forgiving eventually, and everything falls back in order after we realize that our love is more resilient than — ”

“You know Andrew stole Anne right out of his hands,” Catherine interjected, waving away the philosophies Evelyn regurgitated like a sheep. “Harry was in love with her, Evelyn. Don’t you know that? He was in love with her and Andrew just stole her away. Might’ve driven me to it too if — ,”

“Catherine, stop.” Panic began to grow in Evelyn’s voice. “How can you say that? He isn’t capable of that, and you know it! His heart may have been broken but that was from love, Catherine, love! Andrew acted on love, Harry was driven down by it, and that’s all!”

There were several seconds of silence, the air hung, thick, between them.

“They really have blinded you, haven’t they?” Catherine almost whispered, arms hanging at her side. “You really think there’s nothing but love inside of us?”

A moment.

“Yes.”

Catherine’s eyes stayed fixed on Evelyn’s, penetrating her mind, the sense of disbelief and abandonment tangible in the air between them. Evelyn broke the gaze first; she looked away, picking at a splinter in her left palm.

“This will just happen again and again,” Catherine whispered, her voice distressed as she turned, staring into the fire. “The next generation of Elders will just say the same things as the one before, people will keep dying and no one will care to find out why.” It was as if she were only talking to herself. “’The human spirit, the human spirit, so pure and beautiful and strong’ they say…‘it will withstand, it will survive’…”

And before Evelyn could stop herself she was across the room, her hands planted firmly on Catherine’s back. She pushed with a surprising strength.

Catherine’s screams rang out and fed Evelyn’s ears like nourishment — quieted with time as the flames licked her, consumed her. Evelyn watched with obsessive pleasure, fascination, as Catherine writhed and seized, pushing herself deeper into the brick tunnel, searing her skin — until the screams quieted and Catherine surrendered. The flames became her, and she the flames.

With a sudden start, like waking up from a falling dream, realization washed upon Evelyn- she choked on the smoky air encircling her, tripped over her feet–

“No . . .No, no, no, no . . . ”

She crawled toward the oven — it couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be real . . .

She burned her hands and face reaching feverishly into the fire, trying to grab hold of whatever red-hot solid object she could, but in vain. Catherine was gone. Dust to dust.

With the horrific understanding of what she had again accomplished, Evelyn let out the slow, building wail of a wounded animal and crashed to the stone floor. She dragged her nails across the ground, bashing her head, ripping her hair and gasping and choking between panicked sobs — for she had once again lost herself to the evil within.