After a cold blistery week the weather finally cleared out. Maybe that is why thousands of people gathered together on a sage brush strewn hillside. Or maybe it was static electricity sizzling between minds, calling for a mass gathering. For me personally, it was the witch burning. It isn't every day that you get to see a witch burned at the stake. I can only think of a few times in history that such a magnificent event took place, Joan of Ark and the Salem witch trials. (I don't count the movie "The Monty Python and the Holy Grail" because I can't remember if they burned the witch or not). Anyways, I went for the witch. Because of the immense amount of traffic on normally deserted streets, my friends and I parked a mile away and hitched a ride in the back of a Chevy pick-up. As we looked upon the hill, a loud cheer erupted along with a mushroom cloud of swirling colors. We were late, the burning had begun.

Through a dark pink haze I snaked through the crowd. "Where had they gone?" The sticky mass of human flesh surged around me. "Where had they gone?" Frantically I searched the passing, chalk plastered faces for my friends. Somewhere behind me, a body had been torn screaming from the mass and heaved across the top. I saw the poor girl kicking and screaming as she was passed above the crowd. A hand burst from the mass, plucking off one of her shoes. "Give that back!" She screamed. Other hands burst from the crowd, grasping for her remaining shoe. Trying to protect it she began to kick her legs. One of her flailing legs whacked my head. In her attempt to save her shoe, she lost the support of the crowd and was dropped head first onto the ground. I reached down and pulled her up. "Thanks" she mouthed before she was swept away in the writhing mass.