They know what you are. You must run; if they catch you, you’ll burn.
But your house is already surrounded. Only one path of escape now, you think with dismay, for it comes with a price. Eight lives you’ve had; you’re down to the last one. Changing once more means you’ll never take the human form again.
They shout, “Burn the witch!” Pitchforks in their hands cast shadows in the torchlight.
They burst through your door, demanding your life, their faces distorted with anger. But the house is empty, save for a black cat that scurries away between their legs.
About the author:
Lily Black is a civil engineer from Poland. She loves the smell of new books and coffee, and enjoys writing speculative fiction when the sun goes down and the world is asleep.
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