Ropes dug into Calynn’s wrists, her hands long since numb from their prolonged bondage. Small, superstitious people, the villagers feared her. She was different, marked with the violet eyes of legends. For sixteen years she’d lived with these people, laughed, cried, and worked besides them. Only once did she fail to stain her eyes dark. Now they sought her death.

It took four days for the priests to ‘examine’ her, another two to march to the killing circle with a parade of witnesses. Each step left a numb hole in her heart. Children she had once played with taunted as she was dragged to the chopping block. Of all she had endured, the look in Daniel’s eyes hurt the most. How quickly love had turned to hate.

Hands forced her head onto the block and her nostrils flared. The scent of blood, soaked deep into the ancient wooden rings, was still strong even after nearly fifty year. Something pulled at Calynn, pulsing, calling her name. Hundreds had died on this stump, all of them guilty only in looking different.

Visions of deaths long past surged through her mind as they tied her down. Her heart quickened. Only one had escaped the slaughter. It wasn’t until now that Calynn understood Nana’s dying words or the pain in her dark-stained violet eyes. Voices fluttered in the wind, calling, straining for release.

“It’s time, Calynn.”

Lighting burst from Calynn’s hands, breaking her bonds and releasing the slaughtered souls. It was time.

About A. L. Kaplan

I am a writer, artist, and parent.
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