An Arcane Scrapbook Collection

"The Chains of Fear"

Ira paced the cellroom, stopping every few moments to try her luck with the bars to no success. Every other person cowered into a corner, unwilling to even utter a word.

But not Ira.

She couldn't bear the sight of his idle hands and uncertain words, leading the little girl down a path destined to damn them all.

It made her blood boil, an overwhelming anger burning deep inside, demanding to be out and she yielded, opening her mouth to scream, but there was no sound.

She reached out for the child, pushing as much of herself through the small space between the bars, straining every muscle. But the pain didn't stop her.

Nothing would.

The little girl turned around at the commotion. Wide eyes staring nervously into Ira's soul, the keys on her hands clinking with every shiver of her body.

The man followed after, his eyes locking with Ira's for a moment before he looked to the girl, shaking his head. "No... no-" he placed his trembling hand on the girl's shoulder. "She'll ruin everything..."

Ira reached further out- a sharp ache settling in her arm before it all eased, her body falling through the bars and landing with a muffled thud on the ground.

She gasped out, looking back to the crowd still locked up but she ignored their cries. Picking herself up, a suffocating rage overwhelming her every sense with a desperate craving for blood as she approached the pair.

The man backed away, trembling uncontrollably as he spoke. "No- no- please- please" A look of horror flashed in his eyes before a fist landed on his face forcing him back. He held his face in his hand, a thin trail of blood dripping through his fingers.

"Ple-please- I- I didn't mean-!" But before he could finish, another blow was dealt to his face, sending him crashing down onto the floor.

His cries for mercy were interrupted by the repeated beating, the cuts forming on Ira's knuckles dripping onto his face with every blow, mixing their blood, but she didn't stop.

Not until that pathetic look was wiped away from his face and his body quieted. Not until she was gasping for every drop of air she breathed.

And she sat back, arms falling limp before her as she stared at the disfigured man, the faint pride she felt eclipsed by the relentless anger.

She took a deep breath and got up, turning to the little girl who blankly stared at the man, unmoved.

Ira crouched down, bringing her hand up to the little girl's cheek, smearing a trail of red on the porcelain skin. "Hey there, love... I want you to do something for me..."

The girl glanced up, a chilling glimmer igniting in her eyes at the woman's words, her jaw clenched and hands gripping the keys tightly.

Ira leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. Her voice like a distant rumble, words lingering long enough to leave a bitter taste.

"Make...

...them...

...burn." 

WC: 499

----------

This is a contest entry written in Microfiction following the prompt of: 

"Eleutheromania – an intense and irresistible desire for freedom."