The first thing I saw that day was light filtering in to my cell through the small barred window from the dawning sun. I reached my hand out and let the light fall on my hand gently and smiled knowing what my goddess, Joy, had told me to be true. The sun is Daylight’s creation that he had once upon a time assisted his Father in collecting the light together to create it. Of course, no one here calls him Daylight. They all call him by his Latin name.
I drew a deep breath and I knew today maybe my final day. I crouched so that my body could squeeze into the sunlight to enjoy the last few seconds of its warmth. I prayed to my goddess. I prayed that, if I saw favor, she may seek to secure my life so that I could continue to serve her further on Earth. I prayed that if she saw fit for me to die today then for my welcome in hell to be fitting for a true servant. Dying was what this day was to be about. For indeed it had been 1610 years since God saw fit to murder his own son as a last desperate act to force humans to love Him. It was the sixth of November and I, along with several others, had been grabbed from the village of Logrono. The others were just random women who had done one thing or another to anger the local church. Often this meant they had refused to secretly sleep with the priests, pay certain made-up taxes, or they spoke out in public. I was different. I was, in fact, the only so called witch to be found in Logrono. I watched as others were