The Black Sheep

By MoshiMoshiQueen

Dark clouds were patched together like a thick, wool quilt, and covered the last remains of the vivid sun. Frozen tears of the sky drained from the clouds lifelessly and drifted towards the earth in streams. The town of Salem, Massachusetts was ravaged by winter's wrath, and those who felt God's revenge assumed it was because of the devil's gift, Charity.

The six year old was locked away, her left hand tied viciously behind her back. A cap covered her long hair, but the spiraling raven locks escaped the material despite her mother's efforts. She wore the dull black and white fabric that everyone in the town sported, but there was one difference, her wool dress magically transformed into soft cotton whenever it touched her milky, white skin.

The child had been shunned for her entire life because of her apparent differences. Her hair was a rich onyx in contrast to her family's dreary, auburn manes. Her eyes were the deepest, unnatural emerald green that illuminated her pixie features. Her skin was so pure and creamy that you could see her blue blood coursing through her veins. Her steps were always hops, her lips always formed a smirk, and her joy could never be contained. She was the blatant sign of everyone's sins locked in the body of a small child.

No one could fathom her dress incidences or the child's differences, so she was forever bound in her room, her devil's hand restrained from using her powers. Unlike any other child, Charity never shed a tear, showed angst, or tried to flee from her reformatory. She sat contently in the room, her knowledge of the future spinning in her beautiful mind, and alarming her family. They had selfishly tried to hide the child not for her own good, but for their own. They did not want this mistake of a child to be their down fall, so they agreed with the town to lock her away. She was to be starved from food and human contact, but the child thrived in the silent environment instead of suffered.

Charity was always considered a tormenting gift from the devil, who laughed at Puritans' pitiful attempts to be rid of the infant. Because of her uniqueness, Charity was never given the chance to prove her true worth, and that sealed the Salem Puritans' own fate.

As the clouds rolled faster, the snow doused most of the community in bitter coldness. The minuscule, russet colored buildings were slowing turning white as the snow continued to drown the town. All of the Puritans pleaded to God silently, their hands pressed together tightly in prayer, their knees pressed harshly to the floors of their homes.

What had they done wrong? What was their sin? Why were they being violently punished?

Charity continued to smile in her room, her left hand magically untying, and her hair falling from under the cap. Her pixie face had mysteriously transformed into an angel's, a halo and wings sprouting from her person. Her frightened mother and siblings looked in awe at the spirit, and realized their apparent mistake. The child was sent from God not from the evil, dastardly devil as they had once thought.

The wintry chills crept through the cracks of every home, freezing the inhabitants to death. Their bodies were incased with ice, their tears frozen upon their stricken features. Icicles hung from their buildings like sharp knives waiting to plunge in any who tried to foolishly escape the storm. Their fires had been magically frozen, the bright light still shining underneath the cold ice.

Charity continued her transformation as her hands turned into black hooves, and her hair incased her body and became soft wool. Her nose turned into a tiny, dark snout, and her ears shrunk into two, small triangles upon her head. The child had now turned into an inscrutable looking animal that flourished in the snowy environment.

As the last remains of the ferocious storm crept through the town, the black sheep hopped joyfully through the snow as the last remaining soul of Salem perished from the wintry storm. The sheep's emerald orbs peered back at the town one last time before she began her adventure again. She would forever be the black sheep of her family, and the single reminder to all humans that they cannot mold any person into a desired form. Humans are born into fate with a set path that cannot be interrupted peacefully. If any try to disrupt a person's path there will continue to be a raging storm around the corner of life.

The End