Sarah

As she shifted, the cane stool creaked. Its echoing reverberated across the empty room. Sarah picked at her blood encrusted fingernails. Slowly, defiantly her eyes raised to stare directly into the black two-way glass. Her back ached after hours in this position, but Sarah refused to slump; betray any emotion, to plead innocence or to beg for mercy.

“We wait for a sign.”

“Isn’t that enough? She tries to rid herself of evidence.”

“A nervous tick. She is a child.”

“Guardian, one might mistake your compassion for weakness.” 

Hooded eyes stared back at the girl, his fists clenched. “We wait for a sign”

A tiny fly circled the room like a fighter pilot, attracted by the heady aroma of blood in this sterile white and chrome land. Sarah stiffened, sending a prayer to Gods she had long stopped believing in. 

“She has been marked.”

The girl had closed her eyes, a single tear glistened and traced its way down her cheek.

Blood trickled from the Guardians’ palms where fingernails had pressed deeply. 

“Witch, you have condemned yourself by summoning your beasts. Prepare for your sentence.” A triumphant swirl of robes exited the viewing room.

“Sarah.” A bloodied hand slid unseen down the black glass. 

Her eyes found his. “Father.”

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This is a first draft, submitted as part of a transmediation project between Stanthorpe Art Gallery and Stanthorpe Writers Group.

Below are photos of the piece of art which served as the inspiration, and the exhibition on display at the Stanthorpe Art Gallery.

art work is "Sarah" by Fu Hong. Permission for reproducing the photograph by Stanthorpe Art Gallery.