Oddly enough, from Shower Thoughts on Tumblr: Perhaps the greatest honor a magician can receive is to be accused as a witch and burned.
Finally, he had reached the pinnacle of success. It was a shame however that he would be burned for it, but that was a minor detailed to be ironed out later, he first needed to figure out how he was going to update his facebook status.
“Aaron Micheal Smith, have you any more to say?”
“Your honor, if I may address the court- it is absurd to charge my client with witchcra-”
“Yes you have made yourself abundantly clear Mr. Lange, but these are not opening statements- your client has been found guilty. Any more outbursts and I will hold you in contempt of this court. Now then, Mr.Smith, do you wish to address the court?”
“Yes- yes your honor! I do!”
Mr. Lange slapped the heel of his hand against his head, sitting as Aaron stood.
Aaron cleared his throat, turning to grin at the courtroom, “I would like to thank you all for coming out today. This- this has been the greatest day of my life and I’m glad you could all see me in this moment. I would like to say I couldn’t have done this without- ah!”
Mr. Lange kicked him, gritting his teeth at his idiot client and pulling him back into his seat.
“… If that is all, then this court sentences Aaron Micheal Smith to being burned at the stake for the crime of practicing black magic, at sunrise tomorrow. This court is adjourned.”
“Idiot!” Mr. Lange whispered through his scowl. “I’ve never seen such a moronic display of ineptitude. I told you to keep your mouth shut! Have you any idea what you-”
“Do you think they’ll put me on the front page?”
“Or maybe I’ll be trending on Twitter!”
Mr. Lange was about to slap Aaron upside the head when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Tough luck Lange, maybe next time your client will get through a bible verse without stuttering.”
Mr. Lange turned to look at his opposing counsel.
“Shut up. You know just as well as I do that this whole this is ridiculous. Your client – and everyone here today, is an idiot.”
Marco held his stomach and laughed, “Yea that doesn’t change a thing. My client isn’t the one who failed the swim test.”
“Everyone can swim!” Mr. Lange shouted. “That doesn’t make us all witches!”
“Well how do you explain the Witches Mark?” Marco laughed.
“My mole?” Aaron questioned happily.
“I ought to sock you, you know that.” Mr. Lange replied dryly, ignoring Aaron.
One of the bailiffs interrupted them to escort Marco and his client out.
Later that night, when Aaron was alone in his cell, fighting to stay awake, he imagined all of the things the news stations might say about him, he remembered the years of struggling as a street magician, his first and only appearance on stage, and subsequently his first time being boo’d off stage.
But most of all he remembered his mother, her doubts and scathing remarks about him. She’d never believed in him, but she would see – she would finally be proud of him. Being convicted as a witch had been his life’s goal since coming across the idea at one of the homeless shelters he stayed in … a week ago.
It had taken all of his cunning, and every thing he had ever owned, but he had done it. He fell asleep fantasizing about being called the greatest magician of all time.
The next day Mr. Lange was with him, and for some reason he didn’t understand- very somber.
“I cannot believe we they actually have a stake.” Mr. Lange mumbled to himself.
“What was that?” Aaron asked.
“I said you’re a idiot for not appealing.”
“Why would I appeal? I got exactly what I wanted.” Aaron smiled happily at him, then to the guard who was with them in the waiting room.
“I don’t know how you didn’t qualify for diminished capacity. Do you have any idea what they’re about to do to you? You’re going to be burned alive.”
“For black magic,”
“It doesn’t matter for what! Am I the only sane person here?”
There was a moment of silence, broken by successive knocking at the door.
“It’s time Mr. Smith” The guard announced.
Aaron turned to face Mr. Lange and cupping one of his hands, “I’ll probably never see you again, so I just want to thank you- for everything. Please make sure you’re interviewed by all of the new stations.”
Mr. Lange stared back, wondering if perhaps this entire thing has been a dream, or if he had hit his head.
“Time to go,” The guard repeated.
The stake was surrounded by a pile of wood, the base of which was soaked in oil. Mr. Lange realized this was done intentionally to prolong the burning. He turned to stare up at Aaron, who was happily being tied to the stake a few feet above the wood pile. On the stage, beside the stake, with him, was the priest, a few guards and some dignitaries he had never seen before. The crowd behind the barricade was divided into two groups, those cheering with excitement, and those protesting the barbaric display of justice. Where those cabbages being thrown? Where did they get cabbages?!
“Any last words?” The priest asked, holding up a torch.
Aaron thought a moment, looking genuinely happy at all the attention.
“Hmmm… I guess I’d like everyone to remember by my name! Don’t forget I’m Aaron Micheal Smith!”
Mr. Lange rolled his eyes.
“Then I send you to your justice, and may God have mercy on your soul!”
The priest touched his torch to the surrounding kindle.
“Soul? Oh! I forgot!” Aaron began to shout, “I was supposed to say ‘hail sat-‘!”
Suddenly the stake was struck by a bolt of lightening, and Aaron was gone.
The on lookers shrieked in horror at the slack ropes that should have tied Aaron to the stake.
The priest jumped up, “Find him!”
Chaos ensued. The guards ran past Mr. Lange in all directions, the crowd dispersed in a wave of panic, trampling itself as everyone fled in terror.
Mr. Lange sat still in his chair, rooted in utter disbelief.
He really had been a witch.