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The Wand

I clutched the wand tightly against my chest. The sharp edges dug into my skin uncomfortably through my homespun shirt, but I remained still. I was hunted again. I was always hunted. Everyone wanted the wand, but I couldn’t give it up. I knew if I did, I would die.


Footsteps behind me caught my ears, and I looked back. Again, it was the man in silver armor. I flinched away, but he caught me by the shoulder.

“You won’t use that wand again!” He snarled. So many times before, he had asked, he had pleaded, he had begged with a gentle face. This time, instead, he grabbed and raised his sword. “You’ve killed too many people! No more second chances!”

As before, I raised the wand and held it between us. Unlike before, a cold thunk resounded through my arm, and I watched it fall away. It hit the ground as I stared dumbly. I wasn’t dead. It was no longer held by me, but I was alive! I looked at my savior and smiled. “Than-” The word cut off, and the ground rushed toward me.

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Posted by on December 28, 2014 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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