A knock.

My whole world was destroyed by a simple knock on my front door.

To give you context let me explain who I am.

My name is Maria. I’ve spent my entire life in the village I call home, the locals knew me. Everyone knew me. People came from near and far to seek my help.

Worth of mouth was a very fast tool humans had perfected over the years.

I am not a god, nor a being of divine light or darkness. I am simply a human being like you and them. I have aged the same and experienced heart break and joy the same.

But to say I am ordinary is to tell a lie. My family holds great power.

As a child I would listen each night to my mother spin the tale of how our gift was a calling from god and to never abuse it or use it for self gain.

My mother had died several years ago now, back when I was still a teen. Now, in my mid twenties, I no longer knew if I believed her talks of god, but I still regarded our gift as special and I tried to do my mothers memory justice.

We, the female in our family line, held the power to heal.

I had the power to heal.

A cut or an illness, you name it, I had yet to come across an ailment I couldn’t heal.

I didn’t seek fame or fortune, I simply try to live within my means. Occasionally my neighbours would try to gift me money or jewels. But however tempting I refused to take it and for now at least, we seemed to have an agreement. Once in a while they would gift me loafs of bread or fruit and vegetables.

I’m still uneasy to accept this but at risk of insulting their kindness I had reluctantly agreed to it.

I held no tally for the people I had healed but I knew the number was vast.

Which brings me here. A quiet Saturday morning in the home I had grown up in, now my own, sipping a cup of herbal tea.

It was quiet, I thought as I stood in my kitchen overlooking the green hills that surrounded our little village.

Until a knock shattered the silence.

I frowned, it wasn’t a gentle knock but a loud demanding sound that repeated over and over again, as if whoever was on the other side was trying to beat my very door down.

I lowered my cup and walked over opening the door.

The man on the other side was a sorry state. His eyes red rimmed and tired, his hair a mess, as if he had been dragging his hand through it one to many times. And his clothes looked at least a day old.

He was a head taller than me so I had to tilt my head back. I recognised him, he lived only on the other side of the village.

In fact I had just healed his son from an awful case of the flu.

So why did he look so disheveled?

As soon as I opened my door the sadness in his eyes turned to anger.

For me?

“You,” he seethed through clenched teeth. He seemed to momentarily lose his composure and ran his hand over his face. It was shaking.

Meanwhile I kept one hand on the door knob, my fingers turning white. A knot of dread began creeping into me and I had the suspicion whatever happened next was going to be very unwelcoming.

But why? I had no idea. Only a couple weeks ago this same man had pleaded with me to save his young boys life. Why now was he shaking?

“You,” he began again. “You killed my son!” His voice anguished.

Disbelief was my first reaction quickly followed by anger.

How dare he suggest such a thing?!

Words escaped me for a moment but I quickly found my voice again.

“I think you’re mistaken Robert.” I spoke softly, as if speaking to a small child.

His face got redder, the veins in his neck standing out as he balled his hands into fists.

“You killed him!” He spat.

There was a murmur around his words and I looked past him to see all the people of the village, all of them glaring at me. A couple of women, I recognised from healing their family, stood close together quietly crying.

A lump formed in my throat and my stomach began tying itself in knots.

Surely I couldn’t have…?

“No.” I denied, shaking my head. I turned back to the man stood in my doorway.

“Robert. Listen to me, I healed your son.” Putting emphasis on the word healed.

The crowd behind him started getting louder and louder, crying and screaming, at me.

“You cured his flu.” Robert muttered. “But then last night he began bleeding from his nose and mouth and ears!”

He took a breath. “You KILLED him!”

No. No he was wrong. He had to be.

“And not just my boy,” he pointed to the crowd which was getting angrier and angrier.

“Everyone one you touched has had the same happen to their loved ones you supposedly treated!”

“Kill her!” “Lock her up!” “Murderer!” The cries were everywhere.

No. No I was a HEALER.

My whole body had turned to ice, unmoving and still. The only part of me that could and was moving was my eyes, as I looked from one person to the next.

“Robert.” I whispered. “Why don’t you and I go inside and talk about this like rational people?” I placed my hand upon his arm.

He quickly shrugged it off. “You are INSANE if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”

“Robert.”

“It’s time for you to pay for your crimes.” He snarled and a cheer went up as he dragged me by the arm and pulled me into the crowd.

It was obvious they wanted blood, was my last thought as something heavy struck the back of my head…