Smoke and Ashes (Witches Don't Burn)

 The fire caught quickly. It spread up the bundles of sticks and was soon dancing around her toes. The bindings held her arms tight behind her back. She flexed her wrists, testing for any weaknesses she could exploit. The men who dragged her up here had done their duty by these knots. 


As the flames rose higher and higher she looked out into the sneering crowd around her. The faces of those she had known all her life looking at her with hatred, disgust, and no small amount of fear. They hurled insults like knives to her chest. 


“Daughter of the Devil!” the crowd jeered. 


She took a deep breath and tried again unsuccessfully to release the ropes that held her tight to the stake. The smoke that began to fill her lungs burned her throat as if she was swallowing the flames that surrounded her. 


She could hear many people shouting, “Burn! Burn! Burn!”


Her skirts were beginning to singe as the flames grew ever higher. Filling the air with an acrid smoke, her tattered clothes burned away from her small frame. Flames were creeping up her arms dancing and twirling against her skin.


“Evil Sorceress!” a man shouted at her. Though she could barely see the crowd, she could swear it was the village preacher. 


The heat was almost suffocating her. She would not be able to stand it much longer. She flexed against the bindings again hoping the flames had weakened them enough for her to break free. 


“Witch! Burn the witch!” they all shouted together. 


Fire now danced upon her shoulders. With a final burst of strength, and some help from the flames, she yanked herself free of the ropes. Taking a deep fiery gulp of air she let out a scream that was feral and raw. It echoed through the long valley as the crowd was suddenly silent.  


The only sound was the roar of the flames as the tendrils of fire began to whip around her body. The tempest swirled around her and obeyed her will. What her persecutors did not know was that fire was not her enemy, but her dearest and oldest friend. 


The entire village was frozen in terror as she stepped out of the flames. She looked wild and fearsome, her waist length hair flying in tendrils around her. The fire reflected in her eyes, burning with a hate so deep not even the power of the ocean could quench it. 


“Haven’t you heard?” her voice echoed around them booming and powerful. 


The fire swirled behind her growing in size until it could swallow up the entire village. Some of them tried to run away from her fury, not knowing it was too late. 


“Witches don’t burn!” she screamed and unleashed the entirety of her rage.


The fire storm she controlled, exploded with a ferocity that had no equal, enveloping the entire valley until there was nothing left but smoke and ashes. Those who had tortured and prosecuted her were now gone by the very power they once feared. Finally, she was free. 

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