Today's posts are based on...

 How this works is each Friday I will pick either a picture prompt or word prompt and write a short story off the top of my head, it will be very rough, so I hope you don't mind if you decided to read it...today's prompt is...

They had called her a witch, threatened her with torture and burning. She hadn't believed them, she was only the town's medicine woman, the one who mixed the herbs, and helped the women in labour, she was no witch, she had no magick, no help from dark or light just what she'd learned from old mother Greystone. 

She'd run from them when they had come to get her, at the head of the crowd carrying pitch forks, flaming torches, and a ready made noose was reverend Collier, she'd refused his advances in the market place, and told him to go back to his wife who was in her sick bed. To her it was obvious that he'd not appreciated that, and had whipped the congregation into a frenzy. 

Above her head the crescent moon moon glowed through the clouds, that dotted the sky, a storm was brewing, in the skies and in her heart. She could feel the anger building, as she recalled the other woman from the nearby towns who'd been hunted down and strung up for supposed evil deeds. She was ashamed that she'd bought into the narrative that had been whispered around the town, of how they'd been evil, using dark workings to attack those whom they had issue with. It seemed now, that those were possibly lies.

Behind her they seemed to be gaining ground on her, no matter how high she hitched her skirts to run, the towns people seemed faster, until, it happened, a pain in her chest that made her think she was about to die, but it warmed her, throwing streaks of silver down her arms, and up into her brain. The sick feeling in her stomach disappeared, as she stopped, seeming to root herself on the path, she turned around to face her accusers, who seemed more like a mob of baying animals or the demons themselves whom they'd accused her of working with. 

Their eyes were wide, they were frothing at the mouth as they spewed vile accusations. Inside her mind, a soft voice said to trust them, to relax and let them take over, and she did, closing her eyes, then opening them, with a smirk on her face. She had begun this night with no allegiance, with no help, but she'd end it differently.

The sky lit up with lightening, and it seemed to come down through her, sending her dark hair on end, and a glow to her eyes, her fingers splayed, and lightening spewed from each finger, her clothes were flung back by the force, as each of those who would have killed her, fried on the path in front, begging forgiveness. She never did offer it to the charred remains.

The voice now sated, fell quiet, and she nodded in agreement, it was time to move on, time to eradicate those who would kill the innocent. She may not have been a witch then, but she most definitely was one now.

TWW