Here's the third writing prompt for my friend Cameron Montague Taylor's website. Sorry it's a day late but I had some work to do on my cabin. It's finally mine, bought and paid for! Anyway, this is actually a sneak peak into a book that's in the works. I've had this in my head since high school and I finally feel like I'm in a place, skill and maturity wise, to write it.
Warning! This includes a graphic scene from the life of Joan of Arc. She was burned at the stake as a heretic, then later recognized as a saint for those who don't know who she is.
Prompt: "I haven't slept properly in seven years."
“I, Cauchon, bishop of Beauvais, and Jean Lemaître, Vice-Inquisitor of France, hereby find Jeanne d’Arc guilty of The Twelve Articles of Accusation presented before this gathering today. We thus remand her to the custody of the secular arms for execution. Her sentence is to be carried out within the square and is as follows: the relapsed heretic is to be burned at the stake until dead. Executioner, take her away!”
Chains rattled as my entire body shook. My raw and bloody wrists screamed in protest as a stately dressed man with a symbol embroidered into his fine coat grabbed the shackles and pulled me roughly toward the door of the building. Two priests followed me, one whispering support and asking for a last request. My voice shook as I answered, “Stand before me with a crucifix and shout the assurances of salvation so that I may hear them.” The man nodded solemnly as we entered the square.
An enormous crowd stood within the large open venue, parting quickly for the executioner and my entourage to pass. I tried not to focus on the mixture of curses and pleas from the onlookers. As my eyes fell upon the pyre, all sound fell away, besides my thrumming heart and stuttering breath. My body convulsed in a violent shiver. Bile rose in my throat. This was not the death I had hoped for.
All too soon I found myself climbing the steps leading to the stake, standing tall amongst the pile of logs awaiting flames. The executioner shoved me against the post, lifting my arms above my head to secure the chains. I fought against the panic that begged for more oxygen to fill my lungs and searched the crowd for the priest. He moved through the throng, processional cross in hand, until he stood in front of the dais. I ignored the pity in his expression and glued my eyes to the crucifix as I felt shackles close around my ankles.
Had there been tears left to shed, I’m sure my cheeks would be wet with them. Months in captivity and weeks on trial had left my eyes dry and bloodshot. All I could do now was focus on drowning out the crowd and pray for God’s mercy. The crowd grew quiet as the executioner left the platform and the priest began his speech.
“First John Chapter Five, verses eleven through Thirteen: And this is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.”
Wood crackled and popped below me as the executioner stuck the lit torch to the oiled logs of the pyre. I recited the assurance as the priest began it anew, letting the words roll from my tongue as I tried to ignore the growing warmth biting at my bare toes. Again and again, I repeated the verses as I choked on the acrid smoke and my skin became taut and raw. The first of the flames licked at my feet, smoke wafted from my simple gown, and my lips cracked from the strain. I fought against the scream but lost as a wail ripped its way from my parched throat.
I began a new declaration, screaming in time with the pain, “The voices were sent of God! They did not deceive me!” The irons binding my ankles seared my skin. “The voices were sent of God! They did not deceive me!” I choked on smoke and the scent of my own burning flesh, and still I screamed…
“Les voix sont de Dieu! Ils ne m’ont pas trompé!” I shot up in bed gasping and clawing at the comforter.
“Phenix, you’re awake. You’re fine, babe!” I turned to find Caprice kneeling beside my bed. While her voice was calm, her face was the picture of concern. I gave myself a moment to take in my surroundings before acknowledging her. The moment I did, her arms were around me. She knew not to touch me during my nightmares, even for a short time after. She made that mistake once in our four-year friendship, and I still cringe at the memory.
Once my heart settled to a normal rhythm, I pulled away. She quickly turned on the bedside lamp and her eyes fell to my wrists. Deep purple bruises encircled them, and I bit down on my lip. I knew my ankles would be worse.
“Jeez, Phen! Are there more?” I nodded, and she stood, “I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She ran out of the room, and I pulled the cover away from my legs.
I choked back the sob lodged in my throat. Burns and blisters marred the skin of my feet and ankles. I fell back against my pillow and waited for my friend to return. I took in deep breaths and released them, trying to push away the memories.
“Not sure what we needed so I brought every…” I looked over in time to see her nearly drop the bag as she stared, mouth agape, at my ankles.
“You can gawk later, Cappi. This kinda hurts.”
She snapped out of it and hurried over, “Sorry, I just…”
“I know,” I answered softly, throwing an arm over my eyes.
I hissed as she cleaned the burns, applied ointment, and carefully wrapped them. “These are bad, Phen. A doctor should look at these.”
I pulled my arm away from my face. “You know that’s not an option, Caprice. What would I tell them? They’d lock me up again, and I’d never get out.” She gave me a helpless glance, and I sighed. “That bad?”
She nodded. “First degree on your feet but you have serious second degree burns on your ankles, babe. If I weren’t studying to be a doctor, you would be in serious trouble. These will scar, and you’ll need to do some physical therapy to be sure they don’t cause problems walking.”
“Shit.” I sat up carefully and pulled myself against the headboard. “I guess I should be thankful I wasn’t under any longer.”
Caprice moved to sit beside me. “Let me get your wrists.” She took out a balm and massaged it into the bruises. “Didn’t know you could speak French.”
I sputtered a humorless laugh, “I can’t.”
She raised a brow at me. “You were screaming in French when I ran into the room, Phen.”
I sighed, “Makes sense, I guess. Jeanne d’Arc was French.”
Caprice shook her head, “Why can’t you have normal dreams like everyone else?”
I chuckled, “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
She tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks, “I’ll fix you some tea. You’re throat sounds raw.”
“You don’t have to, Cappi. I’ll be fine.” She got up anyway and threw me a sad smile as she left the room. I groaned and looked over to my clock. 3:45AM. I huffed and threw my head back against the wall. “Stupid nightmares,” I mumbled.
I was just feeling the pull of sleep when Caprice came back carrying a mug and an arm full of pillows. “Here,” she handed me the mug and moved to the foot of the bed, “You’ll need to keep these elevated to keep the swelling down.” She placed the pillows under my feet, then pulled the covers carefully over them. “No walking for the next couple days if you can help it.”
I took a sip of tea and grunted, “Guess I’ll have Misha and Leo take notes for me.”
Caprice sat down beside me. “Maybe you should consider changing your major, Phen.” I flinched, and she continued, “I know how much you love archeology but…”
I grabbed her hand, “My classes aren’t the cause of my nightmares, Cappi. I’ve had them since I was little; they’ve just gotten worse in the last few years.”
“I know, I was just thinking that if all of this wasn’t constantly in your head, then maybe you could get a decent night’s sleep.”
“I haven’t slept properly in seven years, Caprice. Changing my major won’t have any affect on that. Besides, my interest in archeology is what makes these nightmares bearable.” I ran my thumb over the back of her hand and sighed, “You should get some sleep. You have your shift at the hospital tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t need company?” She eyed me cautiously.
I smirked, “Now, you’re just teasing me with a very different kind of dream.”
She threw her head back with a groan and roll of her eyes. “You are so impossible, Phen.” She grinned at me, “If you feel well enough to flirt, then you don’t need me anymore.”
I laughed, “You started it.”
She got up from the bed and threw her hands on her hips, “You know damn well I didn’t mean it like that!” I laughed again as she spun and headed for the door. She turned back to face me when she reached the hall. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
I gave her a solemn nod. “I will. Thanks, Cappi.” With a soft goodnight, she retreated down the hallway.
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