Friday again, and another Red Writing Hood prompt.
“The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”
~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke
For your Creative Non-Fiction tell us about the last time that one of these three things “cured” you. If you are going with Fiction, have your character resolve a problem using one of the three (or all three!!!). There are so many ways you can use this prompt so be creative with it, don’t take us where we think you’ll go.
Word Limit is 300.
Check out the other participants’ pieces here, or link-up yourself!
“I’m not a witch!”
“So do oranges.”
“If you sink, you aren’t a witch.”
“Or an orange. Once I sink, will you rescue me?”
“So the test either proves that I’m not a witch while drowning me, or proves that, like everyone else in town, I can swim – in which case, I get burnt at the stake?”
“If you aren’t a witch, you’ll go to heaven.”
“How nice. Do I get a last request?”
“Certainly – after all, we aren’t heathens, madam.”
“Perhaps you’d like to speak with the priest? Or have a nice last meal?”
“I’d rather pick the site of the test.”
“Well that seems acceptable.”
“By the bluffs, when the tide is high.”
“That would be rather difficult to get to.”
“Take a boat.”
The sea was awash with dinghies, as the entire village wanted to bear witness to the testing of the witch. It was only recently that they had learned of witches, and she was the first woman to be accused of it in their town. Witchcraft certainly explained a woman living on her own, who could read and write as well as any man. Not to mention that she had failed the mayor’s son in maths class.
The witch dove head-first into the briny waves, barely making a splash.
The judge checked the time on his watch, nodded brusquely, and declared that she wasn’t a witch.
As the priest prayed for her soul’s ascent to heaven, the woman struggled down a flooded tunnel, lungs burning, and dragged herself out onto the cave floor. She lay there, gasping for air.
Salt stung her eyes and she snapped her fingers, making a ball of light hover above her salty palm.
“Well, at least we proved I’m not an orange.”