Why not write?

What comes next...

I just don't know. Every time I start an ending I wan't to be in another situation than sitting down and writing. It doesn't make sense! All I want to do in life is write stories and get my ideas out there. I'm just blocked... blocked off from my mind. It's in a different place, like all of my ideas took a vacation and never want to come back. 

When I got more into the character development, my friends seemed to come back, even if it was only for a little while. They had all dumped me because of my obsession for something that I was no good at. Once I showed them my new beginning, they seemed to open up almost, to let me into the circle, but then I became completely engrossed in writing the work that they had all encouraged, and I was being dropped again. That never stopped them from wanting the next chapter, though. So, I just gave up on the whole 'friends-support-friends' thing. I became a loner, on the edge of a shut-in.

She woke on a hard, burning cold floor, with her head pounding from the blow it had taken and a strong smell of alcohol that was filling her nostrils. Her body was covered in a thick wool blanket but that did not keep out the chill of morning. She realized that her hands were still bound by the chains when she attempted to pull the blanket more securely around her. She could hear the snoring of the two men nearby and stopped moving immediately. After what felt like a year of holding her breath, the girl let it out in a short puff of air. When the men continued their snoring without hesitation, the girl pulled her legs up  towards her chest and straightened her arms that were chained behind her back. With a long stretch she maneuvered her body with her arms now in front of her into a more comfortable position. She slipped her blind fold onto her forth head and opened her eyes to asses the situation.

What she saw did startle her into a wall at her back. She was not with the two men that had been chasing her through the night. They must have sold me off while I was still unconscious. That means I'm with the noble's men. This had never happened to her before. She was always awake and struggling to free herself from the men she would be passed on to. A wave of frustration overcame her fear, but was soon replaced by an overwhelming sense of homesickness. 

She never liked to dwell on anything past related, because she had never had a home, just the feeling of having something incomplete. Not broken, but broken off. Not lost, but missing. Never has been never will be. 

Her feelings calmed as she surveyed her surroundings. Three figures were lying around her. It was still quite dark in the early morning, but the fire had not died out completely. She was in a large-looking room (at least from the floor) that was plain, with no bed but living space furniture and small tables here and there. She was positioned as far away from the large hearth as the room would allow. The three noble men were positioned with their backs to her as close to the fire as it would allow. 

She gave a small smirk, just as hopeless as I was expecting. She did not know how to use much of her magic, but she knew enough to get her to the window, which was right above her head. The door would be the better option, but it was closer to the men and was blocked from her view to the right by a large love-seat.

She focused on her emotions, drawing out pain, calm, and the feeling of being weightless from the back of her mind, making sure that she paid attention to them before she whispered, "flotér."

The world around her closed off and she felt the emotions overcome her body. The pain first, because she needed something to trigger her body's reaction which came as one thought directed to it; run away. She bit down hard on her tongue and tasted blood to keep herself from crying out. The pain in her wrists magnified as did her stiff shoulders and aching various bruises and scrapes both from running away and the rough handling that must have taken place as her mind was dark.

The next emotion allowed her to harness the trigger and use it to her advantage. Calm washed through her nerves and cleared her mind taking the pain, acknowledging it was inside of her, and using it to make her more alert on how she was to move or not to move.

The last was not an emotion, but an experience. Weightlessness is something that had occurred to her many times from jumping off of rooftops and on occasion being tossed from one pair of arms on a slave trader or witch hunter to the next being noble's men mostly, none to her liking. This soon, with a slight buzzing feeling through her scalp lifted her off the ground and set the room alight with the glowing of her tattoo. 

Now I go. She wanted to stay by just in case the men lived, but she knew that they would be dead like all of the others who touched her previously. Her mark was too strong and acted out on it's own, killing any man, woman, and child who came in contact with her poisonous skin. 

She got to the window sill and righted herself on it into a sitting position. Switching the order of her spell she changed the emotions to passion, ease, and the feeling of growing. She then whispered to the chains on her wrists, "Anaptýxte."

The clamps began to grow in size and gather mass and weight to the point where she could no longer hold them up. In a matter of seconds the restraints had grown is size to fit a mans waist through where the wrists would be. 

She struggled to hold them and in a matter of seconds her arms gave out and gravity took over. With a sound like thunder they hit the floor and woke the three men from their sleep. Damn, it went out of control again. Next time will be three times worse than my present situation! I really need to find a master to accept me before-

"Oi! What's she doin'?" the men had woken up and spotted her. The first one, who looked a bit frightened at the sight of her and the oversized chains at her feet quickly stood and faced her. He began to speak Talliman, the 'voice' of the witches, but that was not what she spoke as a magic wielder born with the power. After several attempts to converse with the girl he changed back to common tongue. 

"Please, don't go, we just wanted some information. It's about your mark." She visibly and mentally flinched at the word 'mark' but regained my composure as  the other two reached in their sacks for what was presumed by her to be weapons. 

With a nod in their direction she turned and threw open the glass pane. She was farther up than she had expected to be, and from a look at the family crest on a flag nearby, she was in the neighboring provenience, too far. Her positioning was not ideal either. She could not jump from the window, for the place where they had brought her was not just any place, but a palace, complete with a wall that was high enough that not even birds could fly over and guards that were spaced every 20 or 30 paces apart. 

She quickly looked below her feet now swinging in mid air to see another guard directly under her. He had not seen her yet so she figured she was safe. Until the men got over their initial shock and came after her she would sit and conjure up the trickiest combination she could. With the emotion's nervousness, happiness, and the feeling of wind on her face she let go of the ledge and gave herself a push over the side. 

She whispered to the sky, "Paraskí̱nia."