conscience

They had long since lost it. But they weren't looking for it. It wasn't important to her. No more. They lived into the day. They floated like ghosts from one day to the next. Restless. And yet they had their peace. But did they also have their freedom?
Invisible shackles. Long chains that they'd been working on for years. They wore it. A sign. Like a brand that accompanied them. But nobody saw it. Nobody wanted to see it. You were blind.
Gliding through the alleys, with closed eyes. Everyone with their own burden. Heavy. Heavier. One surpassed the other.
But one saw the long chains. Scared him. His blindfold branded him. His blindness took away the beauty of the world. But not the ability to see. To see what others did not see. What others didn't want to see.
He didn't blame them. They followed. They followed the words that were true to them. Marionette-like. Lifeless. They followed the words that were commanded to them.Commandments that they performed. In a dark time.
They released her from her conscience. They believed.
And they continued to braid on their chain, which got longer. The blind man saw it. Scared. He saw how they saw the power of the word. A power over life and death. The words they spoke could bring death. But they didn't want the guilt that they carried with them like a heavy wreath. They didn't want a conscience. But they wanted the words. They touched her lovingly. They breathed. Clutched tightly. Said it over and over again. Prayer wheel-like. You couldn't forget it. Because she gave them freedom. Because it gave them the appearance of freedom. They went through the streets smiling, without a conscience, but with the words. The words that had so much power.

"She's a witch!"