Dystopian Fiction Novel By, J. M. Lilin
The stage towered far above the crowd and for a moment, it felt as if they were bowing to the power I held. I stand still, hiding away in tremors of fear I might have. On top of this stage, staring back at the gazes of the considerably large crowd, I was the one in charge and these people were the ones afraid of me.
Some were glaring, some were taken back, and others were in too much awe to pull up any strong emotions against me. No matter what expressions they had put on their faces, one thing was clear. They were afraid. It was easy to see that. I already knew that my Master, watching from wherever he was hiding, would be tremendously pleased.
I step closer to the edge of the stage and the crowd gasps. All of these people watching me were not my Master’s people. They were the king’s people and I had been beaten into believing that I should never show or give concern for peasants like them.
As a person, I wasn’t special either. I belonged to a Master who was wealthy and respected. He brought me around to do his bidding and he reminded me that if I didn’t obey, I would be hung as every other living being like myself. Therefore, I wasn’t significant.
I was branded. I belonged to someone. I was more powerful than almost all the people on the planet, but I still belonged to someone because I didn’t belong to anyone else. The people below me were the king’s people but for now, in this moment, they were my people and my Master knew this.
I could practically feel his intense, heated gaze, from wherever he was waiting. I already knew what I was meant to do. My Master had told me once and I could feel his glowering eyes telling me again. I raise my hands out, showing off the power that sizzled and sparked into the air. Blue flames licked over my thin fingers and rose up my arms. It was a rushing, fiery heat of blue flames that made the crowd gasp.
The crowd had gone from a blur of shock and awes to a hushed quiet. They were all huddling together, and I knew my eyes had gone from their normal blue to their glowing, ocean like form. I was growing in power. I could feel it inside of me and they could all see it.
“She’s a Sapphire Witch!” some elder lady in the back of the crowd cried.
I keep my face stone-cold. I drop my fists to my side and shut out the crowd as I concentrate. I could feel them stepping back and before anyone could try to escape, the world lit in a bright blue ball of flame. The whole tent was on fire, but I knew I hadn’t made it harmful yet.
The crowd didn’t know though. They didn’t know that this was nothing close to what they were about to face. They had no idea that right now, was simply a show and that the menace would begin in a few minutes. Men were shouting. Mothers were holding their crying children. Older people were cursing. Yet, none of them noticed my Master step onto the stage, his cloak sweeping behind him.
They didn’t seem to notice, until, he took the hood off. Then the crowd gasped. My Master was nothing short from grand. He had raven black hair that shone under the flooding, pale lights of the stage. A scar etched from the edge of his dark eyebrow down to his sharp jaw.
His cheeks were sunken in and his piercing green eyes made everyone go silent. His lower lip twitches into a cocky smirk for the attention. I notice a girl in the corner swoon and I almost laugh. She had no idea who he was or what he was about to do.
“Ladies” he says, his smirk growing a little more,” And gentlemen.”
He grins, showing off his perfect, white smile. The scars seemed to grow with his smile. His long, dark eyelashes blink in a slow, steady observance as he looked over the crowd. “A penny,” he says, “For your thoughts.”
I watch as he pulls a gold, gleaming, coin from his cloak. The girl in the corner gasps as he throws it out, letting it drop into the middle of the crowd. All the men in the crowd, even the young, innocent boys drop to the floor, as if dead. Then they start twitching and screaming, in a seizure of pain.
“Must have landed on tails,” my Master says. His grin had only widened. He was enjoying himself.
Wives in the crowd were crying but the single women weren’t sure what to think. They stared, shocked, but every time their gazes landed back on my Master, they seemed to get lost in a trance all over again. He snaps his fingers and the men stop screaming. Some of them get up. Older men do not. Younger, crying boys are picked back up and comforted by their mothers.
“Let us go!” an elder lady cries. By her familiar voice, I’m almost sure she was the one who had called me a Sapphire Witch. Brave soul, I think to myself. No doubt about that.
My Master ignores her. Still grinning, he says, “My name is Devon. I am your host tonight. I know each and every one of you and I feel like I’ve known you all forever. I hope that you will love what I have brought you.”
I take a step back. I may have been a Sapphire Witch, but he was something powerful. Something I couldn’t understand and something that he took so much pride in. He was a Glitch. Something we called those that made people around them twitch and glitch, as if they were broken.
Devon, my Master, was a mind manipulator. He could force himself into someone’s mind, take everything in with a grin, and then change you into what he wanted or take control of what he needed. If he didn’t like you, he could easily make you glitch like you were something old that had been used too many times to work properly. Something that had been treated with impatience.
“He’s a Glitch!” the same old woman cries, “Everyone look away!”
Finally, my Master loses his smile. He frowns, looking over the crowd as intense dread fills the atmosphere. He was ready to share his proclamation with them. “You have a King. He is a ruler, but he is not powerful like I am. He cannot protect you like I can!” he raises his voice a bit, anticipating their reactions, “Until he is killed, I will kill those that belong to him and agree with him. He is not the one that will turn this world into what it should be.”
I step forward then, raising my hands back out and letting the powerful flames completely envelop my body. Over the rush of the flames, I hear him raise his voice, “This girl belongs to me! She forever owes my debt for I have saved her life. She is, indeed, a Sapphire Witch and she could kill you all, so I will not have to.”
Abruptly, from the silence of the crowd, a shot rings out. A pistol smokes and the bullet slams into my flames. I look down as it stops an inch away from my skin, developed in the flames. It melts and falls to the wooden stage, dripping off of the wood.
Devon looks up, his dark hair falling in his eyes. “Who did that?”
I wasn’t sure if it was because of his green eyes that seemed to move their way through the crowd like a laser. Or if the scar on his face seemed to burn with his quiet, anger. Or if it was because of how low and intense his words were, but the culprit steps forward.
It is a man, a young man, only seeming to be a few years older than I. He glares back at Devon as if he were a demon, but my Master is not at all swayed. He only laughs. “We don’t need him.”
With those words thrown towards me, I snap my fingers and flames abrupt from the floor below him, taking his skin first and letting him suffer in screams. Then the rest of him goes down, a convulsing mess of heat and pain upon the floor. The crowd, shaken and unable to help, step back in a trembling mass of fear and disgust.
“Who is with me?” Devon inquires solemnly. “For if you are not with me, I am not with you. If I am not with you, you will no longer be here.”
It sounded like a riddle or a poem and I search the crowd for those that might recognize his agitation. No one did. I almost sigh, knowing exactly what was about to happen next. I knew there was no hope for any of those that stood in front of me. I knew this, without a doubt, as they begin to mumble and shake their heads in disagreement.
“Very well,” Devon says. He winks and shows off his smile once again as he turns to me, “You know what to do.”
I force on a smile of my own, my eyes glowing with the power I had been holding back. I turn back to the crowd, stepping in front of Devon as he starts to laugh. He pulls his hood on and takes a step back, vanishing into the shadows just as my own shadows, the flames I was creating, develops into a blurry destruction of heated agony.
This was the first chapter to a novel I had in an old folder. What did you think? Do you want more? Have suggestions? Questions? Let me know in the comments.
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