The raging shouts and screams resounded and encompassed the air all around her, the low flames below lapping at the hem of her dress. Her wrists were bruised by her frantic, desperate pulls in attempt to escape the coarse bonds around them. Her ankles scratched against the splintered stake, her place of condemnation.
"Witch!" they all shouted. "Evil!"
"Heartless murderer!"
"Kill the sorceress!"
"Burn the witch!"
Though the air was burning with both the blaze of the fire and the scorch of her prosecutors malicious howls, the gem pressed against the nape of her neck remained as icy as the dark, frigid water she had retrieved it from. She began to feel the heat of the flames as they grew closer to her, dreading the blistering pain to come next.
Although the sweltering embers were just below her, clawing at her crucifix to reach her, she felt as though frigid frost was creeping it's way up her neck and shoulders. She lifted her head to the charcoal midnight, a flurry of smoke spiraling skywards. She screwed her eyes shut and wished that one or the other would consume her. That one would allow her to drown in it and end all her suffering.
In the dark of her closed eyes, she prepared to lose herself in the shrieks and howls.
For everything to go black.
YOU ARE READING
The Bird And The Shadow
General FictionIn a world where authors are ironically bad at summaries, the reader will have to resort to drastic measures to uncover an ancient, hidden, plot. Read a story themselves with no pre-context. Seriously, I don't know what to say about this story thoug...
