Weighted Innocence
I saw the prompt from @alexprompts and just had to try it! I realize it might be a little late though (I didnât realize how far ahead AEST time was of EST) but here it is anyway!
The water is cold. It sloshes around my ankles as two men drag me towards the boat. I know them both- we worked at the annual Christmas festival together. Now if they look at me, they look at me with disgust. To them, Iâm less than one of the help. Now, Iâm one of the accused. My trial is today-the final test to see if Iâm a witch. Today is the day Iâm going to die. The test is simple: if you sink, youâre innocent. If you float, youâre guilty. Few survive the first of the tests. I know of no one whoâs survived the final trial. Iâm not sure anyone would want to.
Theyâve bound my wrists with thick rope normally used on slaves that get out of hand. I wouldnât have fought them. Where would I run? Thereâs nowhere for accused witches to hide. By sundown, news of an escaped witch will have reached the next couple of towns over.
I feel everyoneâs stares on me. A crowd has gathered at the banks of the lake just to see me drown. The two men throw me into the boat and start rowing towards the center of the lake. I try to remember the humid air that comes with all sunny days- the feel of the rough wood beneath me.I try to remember the warm looks people greeted me with before I became accused. They were so different from the maniac smiles I get now. Maybe once I die, people will regret what they did. Iâll never find out. There are no windows in hell.
They tie the weights to my legs first, then to my arms. My skin burns under all the rope. I donât want to die. Not like this. But what other choice do I have?
I donât expect them to push me overboard so soon. I shut my mouth, trying not to breath in more water than air. I canât die. Not like this. Iâll be forgotten in a week. My body will be left as food for the fish, the leftovers decaying under a thick blanket of waves. I wonât even get a proper burial. The image of my broken body scalds my brain.
Iâm losing air. Water presses at my lungs- my eyes. I wave my arms behind my back but theyâre weighted down. If only I could untie the ropes. I can. My hands can still move. I grab at the knot, picking with my fingernails. It doesnât budge. Please God help me now. He knows Iâm innocent. He has to help- the knot loosens. My heart jumps, squeezing my lungs. Seconds pass. I shrug the weights off my arms. Iâm almost to the bottom of the lake now. My hands claw at the rope that binds my feet. I donât have much time.
My vision is edging black when the rope gives and falls off. Air. I need air. My legs thrash in the water, pushing me away from the bottom. My hands grab at nothing. My lungs are burning when I break the surface, coughing up water.
I hear the screams before I see the horrified looks of the crowd. I remember where I am. I smoke coming off their expressions and realize why no one has survived the water. I realize I shouldâve drowned.
