Fiction | Writing Prompts | Fantasy
Burn the Witch!
A body-swap fantasy story
Hello! Readers, this is a piece of fantasy fiction. I hope you enjoy it. And if you want to read on, let me know in the comments!
I’m not such a bad driver, but when I lost control of my car and began to skid, fear gripped my body. It was dark; rainy. I clenched the wheel, realizing that I couldn’t do a thing to stop.
As I closed my eyes, the one thought that flashed through my head was that I hoped it wouldn’t hurt too bad…
And then I felt… water. All around me.
I was deep underwater, with no breath in my lungs!
Fortunately, if there is one thing I can do really well, it’s swim. I kicked, spreading my arms and thrashing my feet.
I fell into a familiar stroke, trying to make sense of the bright daylight that glittered above. It had been night a second before, and I had been driving home. Was this the afterlife, I asked myself? And if so, do they really start it by submerging you?
That’s kinda brutal…
I burst through to the surface, gulping for air, and could now see that I was in a lake, and not far from the shore. Breaking into an easy breaststroke, I made for the nearest edge, taking in more of my unfamiliar surroundings.
It didn’t look much like heaven, that was for sure.
Yeah, the hills were green, with some dramatic snowy mountains in the distance. There was a cluster of buildings on the near shore, with people standing around, but none of the structures were more than a couple of stories high, all wood and stone.
It was cold, too. There was a smell of woodsmoke.
And what were the people wearing? Like… brown smocks? I paused, treading water about ten yards from shore.
Then I heard them:
“She got to the surface! She must be a witch!” yelled one of the men.
“Uhh… wait a goddam minute there, little guy,” I called back sternly.
I realized that they were in some kind of peasant clothes, as if they were medieval farmers or something. This was no afterlife! Somehow I had survived my accident, it seemed. Perhaps I’d lost my memory, and ended up in a rural backwater of a village.
I tried to remember, but could only recall driving… skidding…
Still trying to make sense of what had happened, I swam the last few yards and stood up. What was I wearing? Not my own clothes — it was something old fashioned. A long dress, now heavy with water.
Just then, another peasant cried out: “Burn her at the stake!” And there were cheers and jeers in agreement.
“Wait, what the f…”
It occurred to me that this was surely a case of mistaken identity. But before I could try to clear things up, I found myself being grabbed by both of my arms. Within a minute, my wrists were tied behind me, binding me to some kind of wooden post.
And the local peasants began to pile logs at my feet…
Thanks for reading! You can find more of my fiction here, as well as all of my advice and guidance on creative writing right here. And let me know if you’d like to read a follow-up to this story!
It also follows Zane Dickens the Instigator’s ‘Fish out of water’ monthly theme for Microcosm:
As Zane says, such stories tend to “follow the fish as they try to adapt to their new surroundings and find a way to get back to their old home”.
But if this as-yet-unnamed protagonist does get home, what will happen?!
