The sky was grey and murky as I watched my father's coffin be slowly lowered
into his grave. My boyfriend, Josh, had his arm wrapped tightly around my waist
holding me close to him. I half listened to the priest performing the ceremony as I
stared at the mahogany, gold lined box that held his body.
It had been ten days since that fateful night in the old church where we faced
Henry Luther, the man who had been hunting witches for centuries, killing them and
stealing their souls for their powers. And now, he had my Dad's.
I still couldn't believe he was gone, that I'd never see him smile again. I'd never
again get to hear his loud, joyful laugh or hear him call my name in exasperation
when I'd set something alight, simply because my sister, Rosie, could put it straight
out. I'd never get to see his loving eyes looking back at me, or feel his warm arms
envelope me in safety. He'd never get to see me or Rosie get married, or meet his
grandchildren.
Henry Luther had denied me of that.
At seventeen, he'd taken my Dad from me.
My Mum's hand held mine tightly, her eyes fixated on the headstone as the
ceremony came to an end and the crowd around the grave began to disperse.
Almost the whole town of Salem, Massachusetts had come to pay their respects
and say their final goodbyes. Slowly everyone left until it was just us, our family and
Josh's family. My Uncle looped a gentle arm around my Mother's shoulder and lead
her away, back to the car, with everyone else following. They all threw a white rose
onto his coffin, the pure colour contrasting against the darkness of the wood.
But I didn't move. And neither did Josh.
The winter chill barely affected me, despite the fact it was seeping through my
thick, black coat and black shift dress. We stood in silence as my eyes drifted to the
headstone, marking the place he'd lie forever-more, in the Mauve family plot.
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