bits of my mind

burn (america)

TW: burning at the stake and of a town

America said nothing as a man tied him to the stake. "Burn the witch!" the villagers yelled, hurling rocks at him. The sharp edges cut his skin, and when his blood fell to the ground, dark red flowers bloomed and thrived madly, fuelled by his burning anger.

So this is how low mankind had sunk. Despite him using his powers for good, they were consumed by fear. Just because he had powers, he was deemed to be evil.

He let out a soft growl of frustration. Bunch of cowards, the whole lot.

Have they forgotten the sick children he had healed? Where did they think all that knowledge and quick recovery came from? He strained against the rope, the rough material scraping his wrists.

The crowd sneered, an ugly sound coming from those who once loved him. Someone threw a lighted match and the wood erupted in brilliant flames, making them take a collective step back.

Though it was a raging fire, burning almost as hot as the sun, it left no marks on his skin. The flames licked his skin, docile like a lamb. He lifted his head, eyes grazing everyone who gathered in front of him to watch and jeer.

"Do you expect me to be screaming in agony as the flames consume me?" he asked, smiling cynically. "Did you really think I would be that easy to kill?"

Their faces paled, horror cloaking their features. America sighed, as the fire burned the rope off. "There are many ways to kill a witch..."

"And burning is not one of them."

As he stepped off the stake, the throng stumbled back fearfully, some tripping over their own feet in a haste to move away from the one they had wronged.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" America asked, his question being met with silence. The crowd simply stared, petrified and awaiting their fate.

"Under normal circumstances, if one were to wrong me, I'd forgive them. But attempting to kill me? After I've saved so many of yours from the gates of death?"

It was as if the crowd wasn't there at all, the silence was so loud. Perhaps the crowd wasn't there, and he was, in fact, dreaming. Then he'd wake up and go about his day as usual.

But the cold air stung against his fresh cuts and the smell of burning wood filled his senses. "SAY SOMETHING!" he yelled, shaking. "APOLOGISE!"

The fire responded to his distress, growing wildly out of control behind him. He trembled, trying to control his temper as the fire started inching towards the very people he'd tried to protect just hours before.

Screams of pain and terror filled the air as the flames consumed everything it touched in a matter of seconds, growing with every passing moment.

Falling to his knees, America grieved for the life he had just lost.