Stolen Bitcoins

I've really struggled this week to come up with a prompt.  I finally called over my shoulder to my husband to throw out an idea.  He immediately responded, "Stolen Bitcoins.  How do you steal something that doesn't exist?"

So it's that simple.  Steal something that doesn't exist.  Bring out your criminal mastermind.  :-)

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My response:

Emma lay on the packed, gritty dirt, her cheek pressed against the muck, eyes barely fluttering.  The soft flickering of the fire played across her face.  The long sleeves of her shirt were dirty and torn where her hooded attackers had held her, her ribs and hips sore from the pummeling they'd given her, but the sad state of her body was the last thing on her mind.

The soft thrumming, the flicker of power in her gut, was gone.  True, she'd only had it for the last three days, since her sixteenth birthday, but now, without it, she felt empty.  Sure, three days ago, she would have done anything to get rid of it.  Suddenly shorting out every electronic device she touched, accidentally melting her bicycle chain, and giving her boyfriend third degree burns when she kissed him seemed more like a curse than a gift ... but if the old woman was right, and she would be able to learn to control it ... to help others, not hurt them ... maybe it wouldn't have been so bad.

Not that it was an issue anymore.  The hooded figures had hidden behind her car after practice tonight, jumping out and dragging her into the woods.  The chanting somehow kept her new powers from harming her attackers, and in the end, the spark slowly faded and disappeared. 

Tears slipped down Emma's cheeks into the dirt.  As soon as she felt up to it, she would walk out of the woods and back to the school.  Hopefully someone was still there.  If not, she could drive home, where she would tell her mom about the attack and the beating ... but never about the part that mattered.  If she told the police someone had stolen her magic ... well, how could you steal something that doesn't exist?