Flame

I’ve been struggling to find inspiration for some flash fiction lately. Then I happened to be staring at the cover of one of my many notebooks when it struck.

I should thank my mum, and her love of arts and crafts, for her help with this post.

A searing pain spread up her legs when her knees hit the ground.

Her hands shook. Coarse twine rubbed against the raw, skinless flesh of her wrists. If it hurt, she no longer felt it. A strange numbness settled upon her.

Just let it be over soon. She could take no more. Her heart pounded so hard it her body throbbed with every pulse. Rancid fabric drew into her mouth on each inhalation. Her stomach clenched, but there was nothing left to bring up.

The coarse material flew from her head. Bright light seared the back of her eyes. She cowered away, scrunching her lids against the flaming torch held before her.

A roar echoed through the space and searing heat rose. For the first time in… hell, she did not know how long… heat permeated her skin. This was her punishment. She should not fight it. She deserved it.

Cracking her lids open, she lifted her bound hands to shield her face. She blinked repeatedly until her eyes adjusted.

Before her, flames licked and crackled. The blaze reached high above, the flames almost licking the rough-hewn ceiling of stone above. Soon, she too would blister and pop in the fire like the gnarled branches within it.

Where was she?

Figures in brown hooded robes surrounded her and the roaring blaze. The upper halves of their faces remained dark. An eerie orange illuminated the firm lines of their mouths, casting strange shadows across the plans and dips of their chins and necks. The purveyors of justice stood like sentinels, ready to dispense their punishment.

Beyond them was nothing but solid stone.

A sharp pain shot up her thighs once more. She shifted, unable to maintain this position on the hard-packed dirt floor.

The hooded figures raised their heads, and their lips moved. They murmured in an unfamiliar language, a strange hypnotic chant that echoed off the cold stone. The rhythmic chanting grew louder, and their hands rose from their sides with their palms facing up.

The flames licked higher, and she fell back, holding her arms up as if they would offer any protection from the growing heat that stung her skin.

Hands grabbed her upper arms, fingers digging into her flesh and the bones within. A third figure stepped forward and pulled a dagger from within the folds of their cloak. The blade gleamed in the firelight.

This was it. Her time had come. She must accept the consequences of her actions.

The blade sliced at the rope, releasing her wrists. Her fingers tingled as the blood flowed freely to her hands once more before sharp pricks stabbed her skin like a thousand tiny needles.

The figure receded, re-joining their place in the circle before the chanting sped up.

Spreading wider, the flickering flames formed a giant orb of orange and red.

The hands on her arms gripped tighter, almost yanking her shoulders from their sockets, pulling them wide and pushing her chest forward.

Her ears rang, and her body trembled with every shuddering breath. No images of her life flashed before her. There was nothing and no one she would leave behind.

The chanting echoed off the stone walls to a crescendo that sent a ball of fire surging towards her chest.

She tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

The fireball struck, and the chanting stopped.

Her head fell forward. A blackened hole sat in the centre of her chest. If her flesh burned, she could no longer sense it.

As the orange glow faded, she offered her soul to the gods as penance for her crimes.