Knees buckled under his huge frame.
Words emerging from the man in red were
inaudible, indistinct
unable to focus or navigate direction,
incapable to comprehend
or follow verbal instruction.
In spite of the instruction
the little man still contributed.

“Simon Michael”

Words wafted around the courtroom,
unfamilier, verilly a different language.
He felt like one would who was
surrounded by a foreign tongue.
He could not comprehend,
grasp the meaning of this slow motion droning.
He could however see the time.

The clock on the kitchen wall.
Twelve minutes past three.
He was heading outside,
escaping,
he had to get away from her.

Perpetual
Constant
Bellowing
On and on and on and on.

Arms raised
for protection
from constant
slapping and punching.

At thirteen minutes past three
she lay in a crumpled heap
on the hard stone tiles
of the cold kitchen floor.
Her face was split in two
encircled in graduating crimson.

One minute to change a life.
One minute victim,
now, Assassin.
One minute of blind anger
and a life taken!

“You will be taken from here
to a place of execution.
You will be hung by the neck
until you are dead.”

Her wide-brim hat was pointed, and worn with ne'er a tilt
Her midnight robe was flowing, and wove from satin silk
Her Besom broom was hazel-hilted, twigged with fresh cut birch
As she flew o'er the hill, until she spied a rocky perch

The hill was trapped in moons light, caught in its silken nets
And grizzled trees were swaying casting eerie silhouettes
A howling wind came moaning, as it wailed a haunting sound
When her swishing broom came whooshing, as she swept o'er the ground

She alighted on the hill top, landing dainty on her toes
And took a tattered grimoire which she held up to her nose
She raised a magic talisman and cast an ancient spell
Then she waited through the gloaming, till midnight chimed its bell

The hill stood gravely silent, as the wind restrained its breath
The grass and flowers wilted and released their scent of death
The shadows neath the trees became alive and took on shape
And ghostly figures rose, as Hallows Eve called them awake

The sounds of horse drawn carriages, came trundling up the hill
Whilst babbling jeering voices exorcised the silent still
A sudden gust of wind called out the names of those condemned
Each manacled and chained up, as they rode to meet their end

As time echoed its memories, she watched the scene unfold
The victims forced unwillingly, to climb upon the scaffold
Some offered up the Lord’s Prayer, and ne'er a word was stumbled
They took a final breath of life, and into hell they tumbled

Their bodies swung ungainly, as they swayed a ghastly dance
With lifeless spectral faces locked into a stone-like trance
Their deathly shrouds were pale, reflected in moons silken sheen
And she watched as they cavorted, ne'er attempt to intervene

They slunk back into shadows, at the fading of the night
The hill reprieved from darkness by the early morning light
The ritual was completed, as she whispered them goodbye
And she climbed onto her hazel broom and kicked into the sky

On Gallows Hill neath stars and moon they hung
And ne'er a one had done the world a wrong