Sounds emanating from beyond the deep. Drowning out the morning melody of the unseen birds. They try hard to make the unwanted sound disappear. But it’s no use. The ramblings of the village idiot distracts my train of thoughts of songs and poetry. Do I yell at the idiot? It would probably make her ramble longer and louder.
It would be the majority of the village that would tie her to a stake. Not to burn as they would a witch. But to make a mockery of her chatter. Subject her to their ramblings, none stop for days. The stake is on the outside of town, away from us all. So only the idiot has to hear. I see no other way.
A friend she isn’t, to anyone. There isn’t a person safe from her words. In her eyes, we are the fools, we are the ignorant. She has no faults of her own. By herself she will be. We can no longer handle her poisoned words. By herself perhaps she will poison herself to the point she looses her mind and becomes silent. We can only hope