July Prompt #1

Prompt:

One day you (a character of yours) discovered you can fly. How did you make this discovery? (In honor of Jason Grace’s birthday)

My Writing:

Many, in the recent months, have fallen prey to the charges of being a witch, but I never expected to become a victim. Yet, here I stand on the wrong side of Massachusetts’ fear and hatred, unable to see those who convicted because of the black cloth that mutes all my senses and traps the heat of my breath. The stillness is unbearable as I wait with a woven rope strung around my neck. I’m about to pay for a crime impossible to commit.

I hear the trapdoor drop, but I don’t feel it.

Is it possible that death is painless? Did I drop too quickly to feel my spine snap?

No, I can still wriggle my fingers and feel the weight of my body pressing into the soles of my shoes. And I doubt I would’ve been able to hear the shrill scream of a woman if I were dead. But I hear her, and I feel my fingers, and suddenly my hands are free.

I tear the black bag off my head, my hair sticking to my face from the sweat of the dark canvas bag, and I can see.

I’m not dead. The rope meant to kill me hangs loosely down my collarbones, and the panic of the sadists that came to watch my execution fades into background noise as I look down at where the trapdoor should be.

But it isn’t there.

Nothing is.

My feet are balanced on empty air, something that should be impossible, but evidently isn’t.

There’s a tug in my stomach, something new that somehow feels familiar, and I just barely have sense enough to free my neck of the condemning rope before I float upwards, the wind completely balancing me.

With a grim smile, I realize that I must be guilty of the accused crime.