Hope is a fourteen year old witch, convicted of practing witchcraft. Which she has, but her jailmates have not been practing whitchcraft and are about to be executed. Do you think she's just going to sit back and watch? Of course not!
They came in the middle of the night. The Mercinaries. The Jerks, as I liked to call them. They barged in through the door, without even knocking. Rude, right?
Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Hope. No last name. I'm only fourteen, and I'm on the run from the law. I have an exciting life.
Well, in my opinion, it's not that fair. Whatever happened to equal rights? To that were-all-one-family thing? Because it didn't seem to apply to me, which was not cool. I had a special ability. And there were only two paths that my ability could take me. It could either take me to the top, an internet sensation or whatever, or it could shun me and make people call me awful names.
Sadly, I was walking down the second road.
But anyway, the Mercinaries were searching my house. I lay huddled in the blankets of my bed, trying to look as if I was innocent. I felt terrible. I had seen so many innocent kids get burned at the stake. They had only caught two real witches so far.
I was the third.
I head booming steps. They were coming up the stairs. No doubt they would get me. I jumped out of bed, pushing over "experiments," and grabbed my guitar.
My door slammed open, breaking off its hinges. There were two Mercinaries, one was just climbing into my attic room, so I swung my guitar and hit it on his jar-shaped head. He fell down the ladder, taking out his partner. I smiled despite my situation.
I climbed out the window, dropping twenty feet. I whistled. My cat, Luna, came bounding, only she was on top of the roof.
"Tell Mom what happened, yeah?" I asked her. I know, I was talking to a cat. That might be weird for humans, but I'm a witch and therefore can understand animals.
Luna cocked her head to one side and gave a small mew.
"I have to go. Sorry."
Luna looked disappointed, but I had to get running.
But the Mercinaries had already caught up with me. They were on me like vultures on a dead animal. Suddenly there was duct tape on my mouth, and there was rope around my wrists and ankles.
I almost smiled. These humans were so... well, human. They thought that this was going to bound me? Not even.
I let them carry me down the driveway. I broke free in a millisecond, diving out to the streets, fire shooting out of my feet and hands. I was launched into the air, making sure no fire had touched my skin other than my hands and feet, the only parts of me that were fireproof. There was a reason that they burned witches.
I looked ridiculous. I was in snowflake pajama pants and an old tank top. It would slow me down that I was barefoot, too. They would be on me fast, even if I was a witch. I was out past the city's curfew. People would notice me in a nanosecond.
So, trying to enjoy my freedom as much as I could for the next few minutes, I sprinted down the streets, the wind running its cold fingers through my hair.
I muttered spells and chants in my head as I ran, protective barriers and obstacles and occasionally a burst of speed.
The Mercinaries were right on me, in their crisp black suits and ties. It made me sick to look at them. I wondered how they had figured out I was a witch when they were just content with killing innocent kids with not a drop of magical blood in their veins. Trust me, I know if they're real or not. I can read minds.
I heard the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter above me. I figured I had about twelve seconds before they actually caught me.
I sat in the jail cell, looking at the walls. It was filthy in here. Kids had drawn on the walls with Sharpies and chalk. No one got a fair trial. Never, not once. It was "You're a witch, now let's go get the matches, shall we?"
I was at the mercy of these people. I couldn't wait until interrogation.
The walls were made of white marble, which surprised me. There were drawings all over the walls. All ranging from doodles of monsters that looked very similar to the Mercinaries to messages like "HELP--I HAVE A DAUGHTER WHO NEEDS ME."
I looked in the jail cell next me, where there was another kid drawing on the walls. She had a bright blue Sharpie in her hand, her facing twisted in concentration.
When she was done, her drawing looked a little like this:
I'm not a witch.
But then she crossed that out and began a new message.
I'm not a witch.
I never was a witch.
I never will be a witch, and yet they are going to kill me.
My heart swelled as the Mercinaries opened her cell. The pulled her to her feet and handcuffed her. They practically shoved her into the room marked "Interrogation."
Then they took her out of interrogation after about an hour. They led her down the hall that had a sign in it marked "This Way To Trials."
She didn't come back.