I had heard the stories.  No, I had heard the rumors.  Everyone had.  The rumors of witches.  Of burnings.  I hadn't given them much thought.... until I began to be hunted like one.

My family and I had lived on the outskirts of town, in an ocean-side village.  Just my mother, my father, my little brother, and me.  Until they came. 

Every morning, I would escape my bedroom and walk to the edge of the cliff that over-looked the ocean.  Every morning, I sat and watched as the dawn's darling light broke free from it's shadow filled prison.  And every evening, I would watch as the light was captured by the dependable shadows.  I don't know why I did it; I just did.  Life was... well, not perfect.  Nothing is ever perfect, but life was good.

Until they came.

They came in the middle of the night.  Why?  I don't know.  That's just how the Mercenaries roll, I guess.  Anyway, it was the middle of the night, and I had just be woken by the sound of rattling china from downstairs.  Curious, I crept down the staris to find my parents wide awake in the parlor.

"What's going on?" I asked, sparing a glance between them.

They were spared from answering due to the pounding on our door.  The sound resonated throughout the empty house as I looked at my parents.

"Are we expecting someone?"

No response. 

"Hey!" I shouted.  "What. Is. Going. On?!"

Just after my shout, the front door was blasted off its hinges as a group of Mercenaries burst through.  I barely had time to register the fact that they had come for me, before I was bound and gagged. 

"Kavina Dayton," one said.  "You are hereby accused of the dispacble art of Witchcarft.  Do you deny this charge?"

Instead of answering, I turned towards my parents.  They sat still and impassive, avoiding my eyes.  I was stunned.  "Do something!" I shouted. 

Finally, my father met  my gaze with sad eyes.  "I never would've thought you could betray us by practicing this.  Once I found out, I couldn't let it continue."

My eyes widened.  My parents had called the Mercenaries on their own daughter. 

"I'm not a witch and you both know it," I said, spitting out the words with venom.  "Or you should."

"Then what were you doing every morning and night?" Mother asked, hysteria creeping into her voice.  "Did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"So, admiring beauty is against the law now too?" I asked.  I turned to the Mercenaries; staring them down.

"Do you deny this charge?" the one repeated.

I didn't answer; I simply pursed my lips and stared them down as hard as I dared to. 

"Kavina?"  the small voice made me whip my head to the side.  Standing in his Spider-Man PJ's, Jake looked at all of us with sleepy eyes.

I faced my parents, eyes burning with hatred.  Before I could say a word, the Mercenaries dragged me out of my own home and into the street.  I fought back tears as I heard Jake's cry's of confusion pierce the night. 


That was nearly a week ago.  Now I sat alone in my marble prison, waiting for the monsters who ruined my life decide when I would join the countless others burned at the stake. 

The marble had been grafitied with all kinds of pleas' and warnings.  One sat in the lowest possible corner of my cell, written in fading pencil. 

There is a way out.

The End

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