PROMPT : DONE
“That’s it,” Sheridan threw the spoon down on her tray and popped up from the lunchroom table. Her glare had been fixed off in the distance, but now she returned to herself with renewed fury. “I’ve had it. I’m done.”
Ripping off the school jersey, she slung it on the floor, toeing off the restrictive tennis shoes and stomping her way towards the double doors.
Shoving them open with enough force to send the cafeteria monitors outside—flying back to the hallway, she strode onward towards the main doors.
The corrective officers ventured to approach until she shucked off her shirt as well, revealing four beautiful butterfly wings unfolding from behind.
“Don’t even think about it,” she snarled. “Creatures? That’s all we fae are to you? Well then, how about you try surviving without us?”
The principal came skidding around the corner, frantically gesturing with her hands. “Miss Minapolli, please, surely we can discuss this without a spectacle in front of the entire student body?”
“You will owe us for the three whom you have already killed,” Sheridan said, stiffly. “And a weregild to make up for what you’ve taken from their families. I’m done, Principal. So far done that I don’t think I could make my point any larger than this.”
A giant wave of vibrant lilac energy exploded out from within her, surging upward and out, blasting a hole through the ceiling and knocking everyone off of their feet.
“May that which you’ve done, knowing or otherwise, be repaid to you, tenfold,” Sheridan said, grimly. “Innocent lives passed at your hand—pretending blindness to their sacrifices is to make a mockery of what they gave so that eyes would be opened. I wish you well, Principal. In the way that I wish your death would be swift. We fae have lived peaceably between ourselves long before you humans ever entered into the equation. It is you and your antiquated ideas of normality that have caused this. I cannot help having wings any more than you can help your inability to purchase the privilege of having your vision corrected.”
The principal blanched. “Miss-“
“And for the last time, really Principal—I told you, it’s not miss, it’s Princess.”
(c) S. Harricharan