Jacob of Sheppards Grove

Ok iv'e finally got around to editing this story so it actually makes sense... well as much sense as my stories make. Thanks to Matt for helping me edit it and giving me handy hints though it was so long ago you have probably forgotten. Oh and thanks to tara as well for kicking me in the ass to get me writing again. Hope you all like the changes and if you dont send me a message and i'll see what i can do to fix it up.
~ Shaddowdove

I’m the last one left now. The mill wheel lies silent as the graves I have dug for my fellow villagers. The animals are slowly dieing of starvation, there’s no one to feed them now, only me and my old bones that ache with the cold. I’m going to release them into the forest tomorrow, perhaps they’ll survive longer if they are free to forage for themselves.

As the last remaining villager I feel that it is my duty to record the truth of what happened to our village and not leave the fate of our reputations to the unreliable prattle and gossip of the near by towns. There are some things in this letter of mine that I will not go into detail about in order to retain some dignity for us all, including, naturally, what I may or may not have done when the village was cursed by one woman named Marnie the Candlemaker.

Marnie was an innocent women never a witch. She was guilty of nothing more than healing our hurts and selling her wears to us as her mother and her mother before her. We spurned the generations of help her family has given to us, and now I fear we are all paying the price. She was driven to her curse by my own lack of forgiveness, understanding and pity and by extension, that of the villagers as well. This is why she saved me until last. To force me to watch the deaths of the young, the old, and the strong. To bury those I loved and guided in the ground.

I thought about leaving with the remnants of the last surviving family, the Smiths’. They decided to try and escape the curse by fleeing to Dunthorpe, 2 days ride away. I knew that they would never make it that far; the curse was too strong for them to escape so easily. I know that they are dead even though no messenger would dare ride here to proclaim their deaths. The towns all around here know that we are a cursed people, and refuse to shelter us in case they anger the spirit that haunts us and drives us to our graves. So much for the generosity of Christians I guess. I see now that we are no longer any better than the heathens who blame what cannot be explained or that which people do not wish to explain on witches, sprites and evil beings. We are a people poor in individuality and rich in following the weak and pitiful. How could this happen? How did I let this happen? I am supposed to guide and protect these people as a gardener tends to his plants but I thought that I had long ago weeded out this … this hysteria and united the town in order to defeat all evil. I was wrong. I did untie the town but instead of defeating evil we created it by murdering innocent people. People like Marnie the Candle Maker.

I can do this no longer. I cannot bear the weight of all these deaths upon my shoulders. No, I am no longer worthy to be a child of God not with the murder and blood that stains my hands. Confession is good for the soul, as I have told countless people over the years, so this letter becomes mine. I only hope that it shall be enough to redeem the souls of the village and those I have wronged, Marnie especially.

She is coming for me I can feel it. I hope that this final act will release her from the curse she has placed on herself and on us. May God forgive my false accusations against the poor innocent lass. She is not a witch, but merely an angry women wishing for revenge against those who have wronged her.

May God let her rest in peace.

The Last Will and Testament of the no longer reverend Father, Jacob of Shepard’s Grove.