Friday Flash: Reborn

This flash was inspired from an image on 500px. I cannot find it now, but it was gorgeous. It has 312 words.

A handful of children gathered around the storyteller. The children were sleepy from a rich dinner and the warmth of the fire, but still they clamored for one more story.

“Hush,” she said. “Very well. One last story.” And she began to speak.

Blood seeped across the sky like slow-moving clouds.

She watched and feared.

Around her the villagers paused to watch for only a few wing-beats before hurrying to their homes. They knew what it meant, too. They wanted to be gone before the thrice-cursed priests arrived.

She ignored the pitying glances. Ignored, too, the icy cold and red pellets that fell from the sky and froze in her hair.

She knew her beloved would come back to her; he had promised and he never broke a promise. No matter that the foreign priests turned him and the host he commanded into so much red mist.

The priests, grim in their bright red trousers and robes, did not see her. Fools. Perhaps they thought her a statue.

One pushed past her to the village square she guarded. But the moment his sleeve brushed her arm, he turned to ice. The other priests, seeing this, charged her with knives and scimitars. All of them disintegrated into the cold night.

“And that is why none dare attack us even today,” concluded the storyteller. She smiled and shook her head at the shouts for more. “Off to bed with you now. Go.”

When they were all safely asleep and the room rang with silence, she rose and went to look out the window. There, the same bit of land she had defended so many centuries before. Others had built a white marble statue of her there, but glorified the details of her face.

Still her beloved had not come. But she would abide until he was reborn as the man he was meant to be.

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This Friday flash is inspired by this image from Wiki Commons:

A soft, warm wind stirred his hair and he looked around, grateful anew for his luck. Lush green growth provided fresh food all year around. He would not leave it.

His brother cleared his throat and he turned toward the canal. His brother, poor sod, wore a fine woolen tunic. The boy was too proud to wear more appropriate clothing.

“The first summer caravan leaves in the morning. You’ll go with it.”

“Father said -”

“I don’t care what Father says. If you want to live, you won’t either.”

The boy shook his long, blond hair. Northern men didn’t cut their hair. Another tradition he’d broken.

“I won’t leave without you.” Stubborn conviction rang in his voice, as hard the mountains buried under mounds of snow ever year.

“Father is murdering, conniving coward. He killed our mother. I won’t ever serve him, brother.”

“Not him. The village, the reason our mother sacrificed herself. The omens -”

“-are wrong.”

No belief in the boy’s eyes. He only stared like a wolf with his prey in sight.

Shivering at the image, he turned and walked to the house. “You leave tomorrow. Without me.”

Friday Flash: Storm

This flash was inspired by memories of a recent storm. Wind, hail, rain. Watching it was pretty damn glorious.

A storm raged through the mountains, slashing at the lone peaks like a claws slashed at flesh.

The god was upset. She stood under the open skies, soaked to the bone, hair clinging to her skull and crowed.

She’d told him, hadn’t she? She’d told him.

Disobeying the god did no good. Even if the rules were wrong, unjust and hateful. Opposing him was like carrying water in cupped hands. Impossible.

Her brother was stupid stubborn. He wanted to protect his daughter. It wasn’t her fault the boy died, he said. She had to defend herself.

They’d both die now.

Friday Flash: Ivory Ring

 This story was inspired by a wiki commons picture.

This school field trip would be the very definition of tedium but for one thing. He scanned the ground, fingers clenched around his sister’s precious elephant bone ring. Poor thing. So sick, she couldn’t come down to view this planet’s marvelous flora.

The teacher droned on ahead of them. “Look. The fel flower devours flesh and bones.”

Enclosed by meter of wide mesh wiring, there was a bright red plant. It looked like his sister’s red-lipsticked mouth. He smiled at the memory of it.

“The gale here – ”

He ignored the teacher. Instead he slipped the ring through the exhibit’s mesh cage. It fell directly inside flower’s mouth. He watched it digest the ring.

The last trace of his sister. Gone.

He followed his class to the next exhibit with a spring in his step. Marvelous flora indeed.

Friday Flash: Food

I got a Friday flash! This one was inspired by Madison’s image prompt:

She stared at the copse of dead trees and the single raven perched on blackened branches.

The spell was supposed to bring her food. Despairing, she gazed down at the yellowed paper. The master had written Food Spell in his typical, cramped writing across the top of the page.

She sighed, gathered her empty satchel and scrambled over the hot sands to rest against the tree bark.

The raven made an odd sound above her. She looked up. It opened its beak, dropping a mouse into her lap.

She yelped. The mouse ran, probably soon to die in the desert.

Friday Flash: Trapped

A new friday flash! This one is 169 words. It was inspired by this photo at wiki commons.

Daybreak turned the sky a beautiful, harsh orange. The bright color hurt her eyes and she slipped the special dark goggles over her eyes.

Why had he come here? Even for a hunter such as her brother, survival would be difficult here. Too much sun. No red lakes to feed on. No decent winds to ride.

A sharp roar tore through the air. She whirled around, saw the all surface truck rise through the air. She ran; her bodyguard sprinted ahead and shot at it. But it rose too fast and was soon too far away to even see.

The truck left behind a small pile of dirt. A small furry animal poked its head out of the ground.

She raised her weapon and shot it. It was a neat shot; only a little bit of blood stained the ground. She picked it, put her mouth to the wound and sucked out its sweet red blood.

“We’ll find more,” she said to the guard. “We’ll rebuild and take revenge.”

Friday Flash: Dust Devil

Not entirely sure about this one, but here we go.

The dust devil rose on the horizon, where the lake met the river. It wound lazily among the clouds.

She gaped at it for a heartbeat, than snatched the basket of clothes and ran back to the house. Bare feet slid in the mud, but she didn’t dare slow down.

She looked back only once. All the fishing boats were coming in.

Her mother and aunts were in the front yard, shelling peas and laughing.

“It’s coming!” she gasped. “The dust devil. Over the lake.”

Her mother frowned. “Are you sure – you must be. Give me that. Get the children.”

Friday Flash: Deferred Promises

This idea just came to me.

The white stag raced across the muddy, churned-up meadow, shimmered and disappeared.

Fucking fae.

Fury swept through Hammer. He fisted his hands, wanting to hit something. Preferably the fae. The stupid lying fae – how could he be so stupid?

He knew they lied. Knew he shouldn’t believe the stag’s sweet words.

Hammer turned, slammed his fist into the tree behind him. Pain sang up his arm. He welcomed it, welcomed the splinters. Anything to take his mind off the stag’s betrayal.

He smashed his fist into the tree again. Heard something crack. He looked up and something silver fell to the ground in front of him. A ring.

He bent and picked it up. The words I am sorry were etched around the band.

Friday Flash: To Survival

This piece is inspired by this picture from the wiki commons.

He looked over his shoulder for the last time. The white-washed building had been home for ten years. It lacked earthly pleasures, but there was more peace inside it than any palace.

He might be back, but never as a monk. The king, perhaps. If he was lucky enough to survive his coronation.

He took a deep breath, looked ahead, straightened the gold tassels on his sleeves and squeezed his calves gently to move the horse forward.

His guard fell in around him, a glittering force in sable uniforms and crimson trim.

He sent up a silent prayer for survival.

Succinctly Yours: Button!

Succinctly Yours is a weekly meme by grandma. Of this meme she says:

How low can you go?

Use the photo as inspiration for a story of 140 characters OR 140 words. It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more. This one is 140 characters.

Hundreds of pretty yellow duckies swarmed the sea. He crouched, pounced and gloried in the squeaks.

“Oh no Button! The tub isn’t for you.”