a/n: I'M SO SO SORRY I POSTED THIS LATE I WROTE THIS AT SCHOOL IN MY FREE TIME BUT WHEN I GOT HOME MY PARENTS GOT MAD AND THEY TURNED OFF THE WI-FI AND I JUST GOT IT BACK I HOPE I'M NOT TOO LATE IDK THIS ENDS AT 1:00 AM FEBRUARY 1ST EST RIGHT
on another note, woot super blue blood moon or something or… yeah
AND I WROTE A SONG!
Y'all should totally subscribe to my channel on youtube with two crap videos of me singing and playing piano XD
Written for the Ilvermorny Quicksilver Challenge.
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Prompts:
1. pixabay en / aesthetic-mountain-clouds-mood-2928713 / - Write a story inspired by this image.
2. Take inspiration from the works of an author in the 18th to 19th centuries. Your story must include some aspect of the work, such as a famous dialogue / scene / must represent the essence of the book in some way (my take: well, i mean, you can tell. The tell-tale wand. The tell-tale heart. Yeah. also, there's a random quote in their from jane austen which is underlined)
Word Count: 766
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It was cold up here, freezing cold. The bitter, harsh winds of the mountaintop battered her small form, kneeling in the snow, staring at the lake over the cliff.
Oh, she remembered the lies, the lies as she stared into the sky and mountains and trees reflected in the mirror-like waters below.
She remembered the wand, that old wand she had taken and that which had ruined her life, the perfect life she had worked so hard to create
The wand had taken that perfect life away.
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"No!"
The scream of anguish that escapes her is silenced by the bolt of green light that flies from the intruder's wand, that hits the body of the girl she loved, the girl she loved so dearly.
The hooded figure draws back his hood and smirks at her, and she gasps.
Him.
It was him, the tormentor of the two best friends and lovers back in their school days, the boy who she knew had done a terrible thing to her loved one.
The grief is gone as suddenly as it had come, and with its disappearance comes anger.
Fiery, hot, untamable anger.
She stood, hiding her wand behind her back. "I was quiet, but I was not blind to what you did," she growled at him. "You will pay someday. All of you."
He laughs quietly, and that enflamed her even more, but she knew she would not act now. She knew she would act someday, but not now.
And with all her remaining power, she cast a spell, and he was forced out of the place that could no longer be called a home.
Not without the girl she loved.
/\
She does not cry, she can't cry. She plays through the memories, on replay, replay, replaying through her head and she can't stop them.
And she remembers what she did.
She regrets nothing.
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She is famous. Perfect, happy, famous, beautiful. She has a husband, children, she has more money than she could ever spend.
She is happy.
But that is all a mask. No one hears the screams or the tears at night, and no one knows how much she hates her husband and her children, not for who they are, but for how they remind her of what can never be.
And she plans. She plans, she plots, she maps out what she will do and exactly how she will do it.
She knows what she will do.
She will kill him, kill him and his pathetic little friends and pathetic little family.
They will all die.
She whispers it in her mind at night over and over again, like a prayer.
They will all die.
/\
She knows it is her fault. She acted rashly, she forgot of how it could be traced back to her, and she was a fool.
She stands there, eyes set on the water, and she watches, fascinated, as a single drop of salt and water falls from her dark and haunted eyes, falling down, down, down to the lake below.
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Years after she does it, the officials come to her door.
She is surprised, but yet not so.
She has built a perfect little life for herself, with loving children and a new husband.
She smiles, real smiles. Not as bright as the ones she once did, but not fake ones.
And she forgets that they can see what spells she has cast, and so the ghosts come out of the wand, the tell-tale wand that had given up the lies she had worked so hard to cover.
And so she was locked in Azkaban for eternity.
Her sentence, at least.
She ran.
She ran as they brought her to the prison, and she was determined to never be bound by chains again, whether it be chains of lies or chains of love or real, physical chains.
She would at least be free.
\/
So she kneels there, the last spot on her journey, the place where she and her love had first met on family skiing trips that had somehow coincided in time and location.
And she stares down at the lake where years after that first meeting she and her lover had swum in and laughed, and counted the beautiful trees surrounding the beautiful turquoise waters.
She sees the tear hit the water, and it is fascinating to watch the ripples from the tiny drop spread outward through this giant expanse of water.
And she falls forward, over the edge, and her body is completely and utterly limp as she falls.
She smiles before she hits.
She is free.