I couldn’t help responding to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt from last week.

Ellen looked at the crowd of people around the cage in which she hung, their red faces contorted as they shouted cruel words at her. “I’m not a witch,” she yelled over and over, until her throat was raw. “I’m innocent!”

The Elders hadn’t listened to her either, and she knew what awaited her – either the ducking stool or the hangman’s noose. Maybe even fire. She sank to her knees, weak with fright. Then she heard the sound of tramping feet and looked up to see the Elders approaching her cage. Someone lowered it to the ground and unlocked the door. Arms roughly dragged her out and along the dirt road to the river, her heels leaving two lines in the dirt.

So, it was to be the ducking stool. She felt the faintest glimmer of…