I told that Jeremiah it was all his hot-headed fault. Burning that woman’s cottage down and now her spirit is back for revenge. Me, him and Fowler ended up brawling in the street. He’s a big lad but uncoordinated and we soon had him down in the dirt.
She arrives you know, in the night. Visits me in my dreams. I awake with a dreadful fever of the mind and her face haunting me, her black wraith’s shawl flowing in the wind behind her. The corn mother, the vengeful spirit of Ms Jessop. She is visiting us all, one by one. Bringing ill fortune and never letting us forget the village’s guilt.
I’ve had six cows down with illness this last week, me and the wife have had dreadful gutrot and now the small amount of coinage we’d managed to put aside has just disappeared. She’s cursed this village. Or maybe we have.
And I just don’t know who to trust anymore. Friends I’ve known since childhood are scheming against me, I can tell. They’re after my wife, my land, my cattle.
