“Mummy, what is that thing in front of the church?” The small girl pointed towards the wooden structure before looking up at her mum with curiosity burning within those blue eyes.
Lucy found the wooden structure filled her with unexpected dread. She shivered, despite being bathed in the warm summer sunlight. “It is a ducking stool.”
“What’s one of them?” Julie continued with her questions, completely oblivious to her mother’s discomfort.
“They used to be used to find out whether or not somebody was a witch.”
“Honey, this really isn’t a discussion that I want to have right now. Look, there is little Timmy, why don’t you go and play with him?”
She watched as the child ran to her friend and then she turned her attention back towards the wood near the church door. As if she was being possessed by someone else she reached out to touch the stool.
As soon as she did, she fell to her knees as the terror of the women who had been subjected to this torture ran through her system. The people whose last breath of life had been underwater in the freezing river.
Second sight could be a bitch.
Written for Sunday photo fiction