After Mass

After Mass
By Tony Woods


"Wait...so you're a witch?" One of the townsfolk asked her.

"Yes," she replied. "I am a witch, no if's, and's, or but's." Her name was Mallory, and nothing about her said "witch". She was very young, polite, she dressed normally, attended church every Sunday, yet she insisted that she was a witch. She couldn't prove it, but she continually insisted it was true. The townsfolk regarded witches as evil, and threw them in the city jail upon conviction, but no one was wholly convinced she was a witch.

"So...you're a witch? I mean...you really are a witch?" The mayor asked her. "Because we don't understand what exactly makes you a witch."

"No, no, I'm a witch. I deserve to be burned at the stake," Mallory replied. She showed no emotion when saying this; no laughter, no remorse, not even an evil tone, she just kind of said it nonchalauntly.

"But...why Mallory? You're a good girl. Do you...do you perform spells or uhh..." The mayor thought to himself. "Worship Satan or anything like that?"

She gasped. "No! I don't do any of those things! I think spells are terrible! And I attend church whenever my mom and dad go!" She said as if being accused. "And I hate sweeping! I hate doing chores! I don't even like brooms!" She cried as if that would put the matter to rest.

The mayor wasn't quite sure how to reply to this. "Well then...what on Earth makes you a witch darling?"

Mallory's mother crouched down to talk to her, pleading for her to stop the nonsense, but she insisted. "I'm a witch. I can't explain it, I just am"

"So, let me get this straight," The mayor said. The townsfolk listened intently. "Do you perform any spells or rituals in the name of any deity other than the lord God himself?"

"No," she said.

"Okay, do you have a personal and spiritual attachment to the antithesis of Christianity, Lucifer himself?"

"Not at all."

"Very well then," he said satisfied. "Do you possess the ability to fly or turn dolls into torture devices? Anything like that?"

"No!" she cried again. "I would never want to hurt anyone!"

The mayor at this point was incredibly frustrated. "Well then Mallory my dear, you are not a witch. How can you be a witch if you don't mimic anything a witch does?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno, maybe I'm a special kind of witch. Maybe I'm a good witch!" she smiled, and then a frown appeared. She was only ten years old, so she didn't really know what she was saying. "Well, maybe not. But I might be..."

The townsfolk gasped before she could get the rest out. "Good witch? There's no such beast!" a man yelled from the crowd. "No such beast? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" another man yelled. "Couldn't you have just said 'no such thing'? Why did you have to say 'beast'?" One more cried. The original townsfolk speaker stepped up. "Fine, there's no such thing! I just thought if I said 'beast' it would emphasize the evil nature of a witch!" he said defending himself.

The mayor turned to the man. "Yeah, but if there were such a thing as a 'good witch', how would it be a 'beast'? Wouldn't a good witch be nice and helpful? I'm not so sure 'beast' is a good way to describe a friendly witch."

Mallory's father broke the argument. "Gentlemen! Does it really matter?"

They were silent. Mallory's mother rubbed her daughter's cheek. She then took her palms and begged. "Mallory my girl, you mustn't say those things anymore! We have proven that you aren't a witch, and yet you still insist that you are."

"Mama lying is a sin. I am a witch. If I said I wasn't then I would be lying, and I would be sinner."

The mayor put his hand on Mallory's shoulder. "Mallory, you are contradicting yourself. A witch by her very nature is a sinner. If you were a witch you would sin without repentence. Clearly your morals prevent you from doing such, meaning you aren't a witch my dear," he tried to continually convey this point, but she wasn't grasping it.

"But Mr. Mayor, I am a witch. As a witch I deserve to be punished. I only hope God will forgive me," she sighed. She was being very earnest.

The mayor sighed. "My dear, if you were a witch, you would not care whether or not God forgave you. In fact, you would want to go to Hell."

"I don't want to go to Hell!" she cried sobbing. "Such a bad place!"

The mayor looked at her parents. "Perhaps she should see a doctor, she is obviously suffering from extreme dementia."

A man wrestled his way through the crowd. He carried a leather handbag and wore a white coat. A stethoscope hung from his neck, and his hat bore a red cross on it. He stopped in front of them. Mallory's father clasped his hand. "Thank God you've come doctor!"

"Doctor? Where!" The man shouted excitedly. He looked all around. "Where's the doctor?"

Everyone was puzzled. "Isn't that what you are? You're wearing doctor's clothes and carrying a doctor's equipment!"

"No no sir, I'm not a doctor. I sell medical supplies to doctors. I figured since you were in need of a doctor, one would come over here and I could hustle him," the salesman said smiling.

Mallory's father yelled. "My God man! That is absurd! My poor little girl is suffering from dementia and all you care about is selling medical supplies! Who do you think needs a doctor more!? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

The salesman felt guilty. "Well, I would have waited until the doctor was done!"

Another man ran into the mix. He was dressed in Sunday Church attire. "I am a doctor, what's going on here?"

The mayor looked at him. "The whole town is watching this! You don't know what's going on?" he said insulted.

"Nevermind that!" Mallory's father yelled. "Doctor, my little girl is suffering from dementia!"

The doctor began to examine her. He poked and prodded her, he checked her pulse and then stole the salesman's stethoscope.

"Hey! That'll be five dollars!" the salesman yelled angrily.

Mallory's father stepped in front of the salesman and stared at him. "If you don't shut your trap you'll be on the ground!" he screamed infuriated. The salesman cowered in fear.

Another man rushed to the scene. "I am a doctor! Does someone need a doctor!?"

Everyone stared at him in a long, uncomfortable silence. "We already have one...you're late," the mayor said.

The first doctor continued to examine her. "Actually a second opinion would be nice, come on over here."

The second doctor stood frozen. He looked frightened and embaressed.

"Well, go over there man!" the mayor yelled.

He continued to stand in the same spot. He began mumbling. "Actually, I'm uhh...I'm not really a doctor." He put his head down. The townsfolk all groaned.

"What!?" the mayor shouted. He was obviously flabbergasted. "You're not a doctor? Well then why in Jehovah's name did you come running in here saying you were?"

The second "doctor" began to sob. "I just thought I could pretend. I figured it was my chance to be a hero!"

"A hero? Heroes pull people from burning buildings, save people from drowning...they tackle theives who've stolen an old lady's purse! Heroes don't run into a crowd and pretend they're doctors! What the hell is wrong with you? I mean, you could've at least done that whole charade before a real doctor got here! What did you think you were going to do? How did you expect to perform efficiently as a doctor if you're not a doctor!?" the mayor asked confused.

The man was blubbering like a baby. "I just wanted some respect!" He broke down onto his knees and began shouting back. "Do you know what I am? I'm an aviation waste coordinator! Do you know what that's a fancy term for? I clean bird shit for a living! I get on top of people's houses and scrub bird crap off of the roof! Do you know how degrading an occupation that is Mr. Mayor!? Scrubbing poop off of a roof everyday! Not even my own roof, someone elses! So forgive me if I for just one second wanted to feel like I had a job that made a difference in the world!"

The mayor felt bad. He walked up and put his arm on the sobbing man's shoulder. "Well, cleaning bird excrement is a very important job. I mean, think about what those houses would look like without you..."

The man looked up. "That's the worst part! You can't even see it! It could be spotless and no one would notice!"

Mallory's mother whispered to her husband. "What is this man talking about?"

"He cleans bird turds from roofs."

"Oh," she said as if something had come to her. "I thought I'd recognized him."

The real doctor stood in front of Mallory's parents. "Mallory is certainly suffering from dementia. She seems to be convinced she's a witch, even if you prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she isn't."

"Did you find anything else out?" her father asked.

"Nope, that's about it."

Mallory's father began to get angry. "You're a doctor right?"

"Well...yes."

"And that's the best you could do?"

"I've found nothing further."

"Can't you help her?"

"I tried, she really thinks she's a witch."

"And that's it? You did exactly what everyone else here has been doing for fifteen minutes! As a doctor shouldn't you be able to do something for her that we can't do? Like I don't know, cure her!"

"I tried."

"You tried!" he shouted. "Wow you tried! Is that what you say to everyone!? I TRIED!!!!! Give me a break! What kind of doctor are you anyway!

"An M.D."

Her father was very upset, but her mother calmed him.

The salesman crept his way into the conversation. He looked at the doctor and offered him his hand. "Hello, I'm Sam Sampson, I sell..."

"I know you! You sold me those non-sterile needles! I lost a thousand bucks in a malpractice suit because of you!"

"Hey, that's not my job," the salesman said.

"Well usually if they're packaged you can assume that they're sterile!"

"At least when you guys screw up at work people care! People hire me and don't even look to see the finished product!" The sobbing birdman yelled. "I could probably leave all the little presents on the roof and no one would raise an eyebrow!" I hate my job!"

"I'm getting tired of this! My little girl is going crazy, and all I see is an amoral doctor, a sympathetic to all the wrong causes mayor, a whiney aviation...whatever you are! And you...a uhh...crooked salesman! Does anyone care about my little Mallory anymore!" Mallory's father yelled.

One of the townsfolk cried out. "She's is a witch! She's responsible for all this fighting!"

"Don't you say that about my Mallory!" Her father screamed. The mayor held him from attacking the townsperson.

"She's a witch! She's a witch!" the townsfolk shouted in unison.

"Shut up!" Mallory's father shouted as her mother sobbed. The townsfolk continued. Meanwhile Mallory climbed atop the town scaffolding. She stood and shouted at the top of her lungs an ear-piercing caterwaul. The entire town was silent.

"I know I'm a witch! I told all of you that!" she said softly. "But I promise I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Mallory come down here!" her father yelled. The mayor went up with her.

"Mallory, why do you keep insisting you are a witch? You're a beautiful little girl, sweet and sensitive, you can't be a witch," the mayor told her.

"I can't explain it Mr. Mayor. I don't know why I am, but I know that I am. I mean, if I'm not, than someone has to be!"

"What do you mean child?" the mayor asked.

"My mom and dad had a fight yesterday, and I think it was because of me. They fight a lot now, but I think they get along when I'm not there, so it must be because of me. I'm a good girl, I go to school, I'm nice to everyone, and I always listen to my parents. Since I do all of that stuff shouldn't my mom and dad be happy? But they're not, so I thought that the only reason could be that I'm a witch," Mallory said looking down. "I don't want to be, but I am! I even made everyone in the town hate each other today," she said pouting. "This is all my fault."

The mayor put his arm on her shoulder as her parents made their way up. "It's not your fault Mallory. Everyone has disagreements, because people like you and me are different, we all have different ideas, and sometimes they clash and we get mad at each other, but we don't mean it, we're just frustrated. It has nothing to do with you, your mom and dad love you very much. Why do you think they were so concerned about you thinking you were a witch?"

"I dunno, maybe you're right," She said and hugged her mom and dad, they all cried. The townsfolk cheered, their hearts warmed. The doctor looked at the salesman, and they embraced.

"I'm sorry I sold you bad needles."

"And I'm sorry I used your stethoscope without your permission."

A townsperson came in between them. "Wait a sec," he pointed at the salesman. "You lost a grand because of him, and you're sorry for stealing a five dollar stethoscope?"

The doctor smiled. "Yes...Yes I am." The doctor then walked over to the birdman, who was on the ground crying. "You know, I could use an assistant, if you're willing to learn some new things."

The birdman looked up. "Really?"

"Sure, why not."

Suddenly two men came running into the scene. One man being pulled by the other. "Everyone make way! I travelled five miles to Aberdeen and found a doctor!"

The mayor walked down to the two men, touchier than a teased bull. "We already have a doctor you ASSHOLE!!! We've had a doctor for a half hour! Why would you go to Aberdeen? What are you, an idiot? There are multiple doctors here! This town is twice the size of Aberdeen! Hell, I'm surprised Aberdeen even has a doctor!"

The mayor continued to shout, and all of the townspeople joined in. As they screamed Mallory looked at at her mother and father as they watched atop the scaffolding.

"Dad, are you sure I'm not a witch?"

"Yes, I'm sure pumpkin," he said softly running his hand through her hair. He hugged her to his leg, looked at his wife and laughed. "Let's get the hell out of here!"