There was a crowd that had surrounded a cross at the town square. But also at the cross; there stood a stunning, snow-skinned, blood-lipped woman.   
          Rope burns had dug into and reddened her fair skin, as the ropes were being tightened around her weak and withering body.

          The tighter the men pulled the ropes, the more suffocating it was to breathe, the more the woman was struggling against death.
           Is this how the other witnesses felt when they were punished to death? Lost....afraid.....petrified.....completely helpless....

          Behind her determination to breathe and maybe live once again, fear was becoming the pounding of her heartbeat.

          Seeing the crowd before her, all were chanting for her death.
          The woman never have felt more betrayed and torn apart that she does at this moment.    

         The townspeople continue to shout, scream, and shriek for her execution; forgetting or not caring that this one woman once was their neighbor and their friend.
            But that was in the past.

         Now......they despise her, they spit in her face, they fear her because of the unknown she brings. How could one mistake create so much hatred overnight?

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An author's note:
      This is just to start the story (and because I want to), since I know that all the chapters are quite short. Since this is a short story!
So, why not publish the second chapter?
Though I am curious, what do you think about me setting up an update schedule for this story?
I want to hear your opinion! So, let me know in the comments! :) Have a good day to you all!