I heard their cries about me from the town square as I threw my belongings together in a sack.
“She laughs too loud.”
“Reads so much.”
“She’s way too smart.”
“Must be demonic possession.”
Soon it would be the torches and the pitchforks. Once they worked themselves into a frenzy, there’d be no stopping them. A bag of rocks tied to my feet in the river to see if I floated. Or just a good old burning.
The way they did my mom.
I slipped out the back window and vanished into the woods. Better luck in the next town.
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