Unjust Memories

The Body of the witch had been found strung up in front of Plymoth high school. Swaying in time with the branches of the trees from which she had been hung. She had been a teacher at the school before the lethal accusations had been made against her. Accused of being a witch in a now paranoid world. Magic, sorcery, witchcraft...

Man had forgotten the existence of the dark arts until early October 2008. Maggie Sorenson, one of the few women left who practiced true witchcraft had publicly massacred 300 people in Times Square, New York on October 13th. With magic on her side she was nearly untouchable. Her three hour rampage was finally stopped when a citizen decided to end it with a suicide bombing. The witch hunts began almost immediately. The worlds top government agencies redirected their officers toward a world that days earlier few had believed existed. Corporate America saw an opportunity to monetize and began selling witch detectors. Innocent and guilty women alike were hung, burned, and beaten to death for their so called crimes.

The staff of Plymoth high had discovered the body of Emily Gray on September 12th 2009. The bruises covering her battered body told a tale of an unimaginable beating. She had been dead long before her body came to rest among the lonesome branches of the bare willow. The body had been undressed leaving her nothing but her underwear purchased from the local lingerie shop 4 blocks from her home. No investigation would done on her behalf to bring her murderers to justice. Though Emily hadn't made it to trial she was guilty from the moment the hateful words left the mouth of the scorned student.

The street light flickered in the gray morning light. Books from Emily's classroom lay strewn throughout the campus, torn pages littering halls and walkways. Blood spatter seemed to cover everything.

In truth Emily was simply an eccentric woman. A product of a neglectful father who left the child to raise herself. Emily had resorted to creating fantasy worlds with a pen and paper as an escape at an early age. After the attack on times square writing about magic or unexplainable phenomenon had been outlawed. Hundreds of thousand of books were destroyed. Burned to erase the memory of the paranormal. The discovery of Emily's secret manuscripts that she had sought to hide had sealed her fate to an inevitable doom.

Is justice served by this new order? I think not. In a world without mercy none can survive. If we refuse the living souls of this world common kindness then we are only moments away from a destruction far worse than can be delivered by the hands of unjust men.

By Matthew Lynn

Winter's Heart

I stand, daring myself to move. The moons light softly reflected in the serene water. Freshly fallen snow rests on the branches of a barren forest. A faint breeze stirs like the trees are exhaling, waiting for the moment of ultimate decision from which there is no return. The image reflected in the surface winters pond is momentarily disquieted by the anxiety of the trees. Imaginative whisperings of a story waiting to be written glide through my mind as I ponder what could have been and what could still be promising what cannot be mine. All that is required is for me to turn and leave, never looking back to youths discontent in the cold qualms of age. But to leave now. To bow out, give up. That would be a sin that could not be forgiven when the final judgement is called for. I look again on the water with a new resolve and the forest ceases to breathe, holding its breath recognising the signs of determination. I tense my legs preparing to leap into the icy depths. The world slows as I propel myself from the ground. I know that death is a likely outcome for my actions but the reward of success outweighs the heavy threat. As my jump peaks the earth rushes forward to reclaim the time it allowed me to borrow. I hit the glassy surface feet first sliding through like a hot iron through butter. I slow as I sink farther into the icy depths. Panic sets in as I am struck by a cold so devastating that all thoughts and beliefs that had once belonged to me no longer exist. The Arctic chill of the water seeps effortlessly through my body freezing me to the core. Everything I am and everything I had hoped to be are stripped away in an instant leaving me bear and unprotected against the onslaught of sensation. My breath leaves me before I start for the surface. I frantically kick my legs not knowing if I have turned, if I am propelling myself up towards my salvation or down deeper into the prison I so readily entered. My head breaks through the veil separating me from reality and I scream allowing my lungs to expand and fill with air. Un-rythmatically I begin to swim, struggling against the force of a once dead wind. In between my strokes I see my goal but never obtain any distance. My body quickly tires loosing the battle it cant remember choosing to fight. From a forgotten depth strength is summoned and I continue to push forward. I feel my palm hit a solid surface. The shore line. Blood runs un-noticed down my arm as I wrench my exhausted body from the water. As I collapse I feel summers heat on my back while awareness fades. I have left behind the empty shell I used to be.

By-Matthew Lynn