Beautiful Death

~*Chapter One*~

     As the sun's light dimmed around the small village, her emerald blue eyes started to sting as tears crept up on her. People around the town threw insults worse than a simple bully would throw at you. Even though she was used to it, as she was thrown insults like these all her life, tears still found ways to her. She could stop the slight crying as she made her way out of the village square.

      Rosalynn Thorne, a 17-year-old florist, was the daughter of Victore Thorne, a mad scientist claimed to be a warlock. Legends passed down from generation to generation about the Thorne family. Some legends are about how they became the wealthiest family in the village, others about how all the men of the family disappeared before the day of a trial or an execution, but the most popular one is that the family is cursed. This specific legend states the all the first-born children of the family are cursed with the power of witchcraft. They're just rumors, though. No one's caught any of them doing any black magic of the sort. 

    Rosalynn, being the first-born child of the generation with no siblings, was accused of the village witch. She knew of the legend but called it bogus. She never heard of a witch who did wonderful deeds for her village and family. She heard of no witch who would set up a garden for beautiful flowers. She heard of now witch who wore pastel colors. But what she didn't know was that she was actually a witch. A light witch, accused of the wrong things.

     Her life was forced to be hell on earth. She was given daily insults for hours a day, which put her in a life-like torment. She tried to talk sense into the people of the village, but to no avail, she failed. It only made her life worse. The insults became worse. She didn't want any of this. 

                                                                     ~**~**~**~**~

      "FREAK!"
      "WITCH!"

     "BURN IN HELL!"

     Rosalynn walked down the streets of her small, quaint, religious village. In her arms was a basket full of fresh daisies, roses, pansies, and tulips. She planned to make a bouquet of these flowers for her mother, to show her how much she meant to her. She was the only one in the village who understood her, unlike the people in the town who chose to believe such a silly legend.

     She took a few turns around the street until she stood in front of a three-story house. She wouldn't call it a mansion, but most people did. The grey stone it was made out of was outlined at the edges by oaken wood posts. the windows were also outlined by the same wood and the doors were made out of the same wood, as well. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the stairs and opened the door up.

     "I'm home!"

     She quietly shut the door as she called out to her mother while waiting for a response. After hearing none, she ventured farther into the house. She didn't have her father because he went missing before an execution. He left without saying a word to her or her mother. Rosalynn always thought it was because he failed at an experiment that he was working on, not because he was believed to be a warlock.

     As she went upstairs onto the second floor, she noticed that the dark halls were lit lightly by a light coming from the study. She walked towards the study hoping her mother would be in there, and not that she forgot to blow out the candle before she went to sleep. Rosalynn knew that her mother forgot things from time to time, so it didn't really bother her.

     Slightly skipping, Rosalynn made her way to the study, her long, wavy, blonde hair bouncing along with her. Her eyes sparkled as she thought about her mother. A caring mother like her deserves a beautiful bouquet like the one Rosalynn was going to make. She was so lost in thought that when she neared the study she got startled by voices, making her eyes go dull.

     "Miss Thorne, I'm terribly sorry for the hour, but the is something urgent that I must talk to you about." 

     The voice was deep and soft, that spoke with a crisp tone. Arabella immediately knew it was the minister of the village. He never went to talk to her mother on urgent tones unless it was about her or Arabella. Fear sunk in as she thought about how it could be about the execution of her.

     "Oh, that's alright, Father. You're alway's welcome here. May I interest you with some tea and cake, Father?" 

     Rosalynn peered into the crack of the door. The minister shook his head at her mothers offer.

     "No thanks, Miss Thorne, but thank you for the offer. Now, I came here to speak about your daughter, Rosalynn."

    Rosalynn knew it was about the execution. She knew. All witches were scheduled one in their life. Normally in her village, it was when they turned 25, but if complaints were filed, it would be earlier. She didn't know it was going to b this early though.

     "Oh? Father, did she wrong you again? I'll be sure to do something about that, I always will. I know she can come off as rude and abrasive, but she really is a kind girl."

     Rosalynn saw her mother getting worried. She wondered if maybe her mother knew as well, but she also heard the minister give a slight laugh after her mother's spiel.

    "Miss Thorne, please calm down. It's nothing like that. I've just been getting complaints by the other villagers about her. You know what that means, and I'm terribly sorry, but she is to be executed by dusk tomorrow."

     Rosalynn didn't see or hear her mother's reaction, she just turned away and ran to her room downstairs. Tears were finding their way back to her. Her eyes stung, and everything was blurry. She knew she was a mess and a threat to the village and the others saw it worse than she did. She just wished that they could accept for who she was and not judge her from her family rumor.