Tag Archives: Flash Fiction Friday

1-Feb-2019

Tags : Flash Fiction Friday

I’ve decided to do a Fairy Tale theme for the next few months. See a list of what I’m rolling on at the end of the post.

In the meantime, this is why crafting can be bad for your health.

Princess Kathlyn watched as the peasant entered the throne room through the far door. She could practically feel the woman’s fear as she crept along the plush, red rug that ran the length of the room. The heavy wooden doors with a clunk, and the peasant jumped and stopped.

“Approach,” Claus, Kathlyn’s advisor said in a deep voice that echoed through the large chamber.

The peasant woman let out a little meep, before she continued. She couldn’t be much older that Kathlyn—perhaps twenty. Dirty, golden tresses had been pinned up under a soiled kerchief. A dress of an uncertain color fell to her ankles, and a tear cut her once white apron almost in half. She held a blue satchel to her chest. Grime covered her face, making it impossible to see much besides her bright, green eyes. Eyes that looked as if they might pop out of their sockets.

When she reached the end of the red rug, she dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

Claus glanced at Kathlyn, his brown eyes communicating his disdain.

Kathlyn gave him a small nod before turning her eyes on the woman. “Rise.”

Every muscle in the woman tensed. She got to her feet, still clutching the bag to herself, and looked at Princess Kathlyn for a moment before lowering her eyes.

Kathlyn shifted on the throne, her silver dress catching the light as it spilled down from the windows above. She gave the peasant woman a kind smile. “My dear, what is your name?”

The woman swallowed. Her hands trembled as did her voice. “Maddie, your Highness.”

“Maddie. They tell me that you are a master of Weaving.”

She nodded.

“I have long wished to learn the art. Will you teach me?”

Maddie glanced back and forth, as if hoping for a rescue, or a way to escape. Instead she found only the vast throne room with its tapestries on the walls and pillars that rose to the ceiling far above. She swallowed hard, and her eyes rose to met Kathlyn’s.

Kathlyn gave Maddie her most reassuring smile, mixed with just enough magic to get the girl to trust her. “I would be eternally grateful, and I would make it worth your while. Your father died last winter and your mother is struggling to put food on the table even with you Weaving. I will pay you enough that you will never have to worry about food again.”

That got Maddie’s attention, and some of her apprehension melted away. “What—what did you wish to learn?”

“Something simple. Perhaps a warming spell? Even here in the castle the rooms get cold at night.”

Maddie’s eyes softened, but she bit her lip.

Apparently she needed more motivation. Kathlyn leaned forward. “If the truth be told, since my own father’s death, I have been in need of something to keep my hands busy. I’m sure you understand.”

Maddie nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“I thought you might. Will you help me?”

If there is one thing Kathlyn had learned about people is that most of them wanted to help. Especially peasants. Maddie’s expression finally relaxed and she nodded. “Of course, your Highness.”

“Wonderful!” Kathlyn stood and walked down the stairs. “I have a room prepared with yarn.” She smiled and had to keep from gagging at the smell of body odor and filth as she slipped her arm through Maddie’s. “The servants should have lunch ready for us.”

Kathlyn led Maddie to a nearby room that had indeed been prepared for them. A table covered in yarn lay in the middle with two cushioned chairs nearby. A chandelier hung overhead adding to the light spilling in from the window. Food covered a second table. “Eat,” Kathlyn said.

“I—I’m not hungry,” Maddie said. “But thank you.” She smiled a forced smile.

The Princess shrugged. “As you wish. Shall we get started?”

Maddie nodded, picked out a few skeins of yarn then gingerly sat in one of the chairs as if she were afraid to get it dirty.

Kathlyn was planning to burn the chair after this. “I know how to knit, hopefully that will speed things up.”

“It will,” Maddie said. She set her bag on the ground and pulled out a set of silver needles the length of Kathlyn’s forearm. They gleamed in the light and Kathlyn licked her lips. “Weaving a warming spell is simple.” She set out starting a small cloth with the yarn and needles. Once it was as long as the needles she shifted directions and went back the other way. “Are you familiar with this?”

“Yes,” Kathlyn said.

“Well, if you have some power, all you have to do is wind into the pattern. Imagine it as another strand of yarn.” Maddie handed the small square over. “Try it.”

Kathlyn took the offering and began to knit. Weavers did not disclose their secrets, but as Maddie had said, it was easy for Kathlyn to weave her magic into the pattern. “It works,” Kathlyn said.

“Yes, it does.”

Kathlyn looked up and found Maddie watching her.

Maddie stood. “I am sorry, Princess, but your fate is now sealed.”

“What?” Kathlyn went to set the needles down, but she could not unhook her fingers from them or the yarn, nor could she stop them from knitting. “What did you do?”

Maddie smiled. “Saved our kingdom from your tyrannical reign. You will knit until you die.”

“You won’t get out of the castle,” Kathlyn growled.

Maddie pulled a wig and her dress off. Underneath lay a servant’s outfit. “I will. But you won’t. This is the price you will pay for your greed.”

Kathlyn watched in horror as the girl left and locked the door behind her. She could not move from the seat. She could not stop knitting. She screamed, but no one came. No one would ever come.

***

I kind of want to write more of this one! By the way, the castle is in the mountains. 😉

Character – Evil Princess

Random Object – Knitting Needles (Possibly Cursed)

Setting – High on a Mountain

***

Fairy Tale Flash Fiction Friday

Character:

1. Big Bad Hamster
2. Beautiful Witch
3. Evil Princess
4. Cowardly Prince
5. Gentle Giant
6. Tall Dwarf
7. Clumsy Elf
8. Tidy Ogre
9. Magical Servant
10. Forgetful Mage

 

Random Object:

1. Knitting Needles (Possibly cursed)
2. Tweezers
3. Colander
4. A candle
5. Unicorn Horn
6. Dented Black Knight Helmet
7. Cow
8. Giant Letter R Made of Wood
9. Garden Hoe
10. Dragon
11. Bunny Bracelet
12. Small Bell with Pitch so High it Shatters Glass
13. Empty roll of toilet paper
14. A Peg Leg
15. Book Ends
16. Golden Gong of Victory
17. Ribbon
18. An Expired Coupon
19. A Lego
20. Overly Oily, Slightly Slimy, Eleven Toothed Gear Piece

 

Setting:

1. Desert Island
2. Small Town or Village
3. Fast Food Restaurant
4. Old House
5. Magic School
6. A Ship
7. High on a Mountain
8. Castle
9. In Space
10. A City Park

25-Jan-2019

Tags : Flash Fiction Friday

I still don’t have a plan for this year’s Flash Fiction. Don’t judge, I put myself on a very tight schedule with these Academy books. Here’s what you get. Don’t throw a fit. 😉

 

I reside as a single entity in a giant cog of machine parts and engineering. Unlike so many others, I can be seen. Unlike the elastic around the window visor, my purpose is clear.

Click me shut and live.

How difficult is that to understand?

Pull me across your body, insert me into the other half of me until you hear a little noise, then drive.

Do not drive without me in place.

The instructions are simple. The results proven by science. And yet, some refuse to allow me to fulfill my purpose.

Like the current owner of my car.

The stupid git acts like he’s twelve, and often drives while under the influence of alcohol. He was banned from driving for a few months, but then someone even more stupid gave back his privilege.

There is a certain prestige being chosen as the drivers-side safety belt. Yes, the others are important as well, but the drivers safety belt will be used the most. Should be used the most. It means a greater chance of fulfilling my purpose.

However, it seems I may get to sit by and watch as my owner drives himself into a wall. Without me he will attack the windshield with his face and either go through and die, or hit it and die. Either way, I fail, and if I fail, then when I am brought back as something new, I will be downgraded. Probably to a belt or  even worse, one of those little clips that holds headlights in place.

The worst part is that there is nothing I can do about it. I glint light in his eyes as he gets into the car, I throw myself onto the seat so he has to move me out of the way. I rattle against the door in quiet moments. None of this helps. He simply shoves me away or turns his infernal music up.

What do you do when you can do nothing about your fate?

Well, I’m not going to sit idly by, that’s for sure.

I’ve been talking to the engine, trying to convince it that it needs a break. I’ve been distracting the tires as we go over big bumps so they’re not prepared, and therefore will wear faster. I even managed to whack the door hard enough to break a little plastic piece inside that holds the window up. We drove around for a week without a window. My owner didn’t seem to care. Not even in the dead of winter.

What kind of a world is it when a thing has no control over its destiny? Why do we know what we are if it means nothing?

These are the questions that plague me. The answers flutter just outside of my reach, taunting me.

When the day comes that we crash, and I am not buckled, my purpose will be unfulfilled, and I will get pulled back and put into another part.

Perhaps there they will answer my questions. Perhaps there I can find peace.

But I doubt it.

***

I looked up a single random object:

A seat belt.

18-Jan-2019

Tags : Flash Fiction Friday

Here there be dragons!

Remus the red dragon sat curled at the mouth of his cave and looked out on the mighty red cliffs.

A shadow passed over him. A blue dragon flew past.

“Come on, Remus.”

A yellow dragon followed the blue one.

“Yeah, come on Remus. Don’t you want to play?”

Remus did want to play. He wanted very much to play. But he glanced back at his misshapen wings and sighed.

He would never fly.

Not like the others. The blue dragon flew into the sky and disappeared into the clouds far above before plummeting back to the canyon. The yellow dragon twirled through the air like a top, passing Remus again and again.

More dragons joined them. Green. Purple. White. Black.

Remus got to his feet, shook his scaly hide and turned to walk back into his cave.

A thump sounded behind him. Remus froze.

“Remus?” a soft voice said.

No one came to visit. This had to be one of the others here to taunt him some more.

“I brought you something.”

Remus steeled himself and turned.

The prettiest green dragon he’d ever seen perched at the edge of his cave. Something sat crumpled at her feet.

“What’s that?” Remus asked.

“A rug.”

“A rug?”

The green dragon nodded. “A magic rug.”

“There’s no such thing as magic rugs.”

She stared into his eyes. “There is. This one flies.”

Remus snorted. Flames came out of his nostrils. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” She straightened. “I’ll show you.”

Remus watched as she flattened out the rug. It was so big he could sit on it. The colors had once been vibrant, but had faded over time. One corner was nothing but frayed edges.

The green dragon settled until her belly touched the rug. She said a single word. “Fly.”

The border of the rug fluttered, as if caught in a breeze.

“Fly,” she said again.

Nothing happened.

Remus shook his head.

The green dragon squeaked as the rug lifted off the ground.

Remus couldn’t believe it. “How are you doing that?”

Before she answered, she shot into the canyon.

Remus ran to the edge to watch. He’d expected to see her wings open, but they lay flat on her back. The rug wobbled like a newly hatched dragon, but it was flying!

The green dragon and the rug took several trips up and down the canyon. The other dragons stared. The yellow dragon almost hit the cliffs.

When the rug started back for Remus, he scampered out of the way. The green dragon and the rug skidded to a stop right before hitting Remus.

She grinned. “Told you.”

“How?”

“Magic.” She got off and jerked her snout at the rug. “You try.”

Remus backed up. “No.”

“It’s safe.”

“For you.”

She eyed him. “Are you afraid of flying?”

“More like falling,” he said. “You have your wings to save you.”

“True.” She licked the air with her tongue, thinking. “How about I stay under you the whole time? I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Fine. I’m Zanelarth. Everyone calls me Z.”

He knew who she was. Every boy dragon knew who she was. The prettiest. The fastest and the smartest dragon their age.

“Why are you doing this? Is it a trick?”

“No. I see you in your cave every day, and I thought you might like to try flying. So I, uh, borrowed this magic rug from the humans.”

“Humans?” Remus stepped back.

“Don’t worry. They’re far away, and ride horses.” She pushed at the rug with a front foot. “Besides, they weren’t using it.”

Remus looked at the rug. A shadow moved over the mouth of the cave as the blue dragon went by again.

“Try it,” Z said.

He took a step forward and sniffed the material. It smelled like the wind.

Z moved aside. “Sit.”

Remus circled it, inspecting the edges and looking for holes. He lifted a corner. It felt heavier than he had expected.

“Get on,” Z said.

Remus put a front leg on the rug.

It stirred beneath him, and he stepped back.

“It likes you!”

“Are you sure?”

Z came around to his side of the rug and gave him a little shove. “Get on there.”

Remus stumbled forward, and suddenly all of his legs stood on the thick fabric. A buzz filled his mind, and chills ran up and down his  legs. Then the rug warmed beneath his touch. He looked at Z.

“Get your belly on it.”

He did so. His stomach twisted in knots and he sunk his talons into the fabric, which didn’t rip.

“Now tell it what to do.”

“Fly?” he asked.

Before he got a reply, the rug lifted off the ground.

“Ahh!” he cried.

“Good! Now lean in the direction you want to go.”

“I want back down!”

Z pushed his hindquarters. “Go!”

The rug sprang forward, out into the air of the canyon.

“I’m going to die!” Remus yelled.

Z laughed as she lazily beat her wings next to him. “Tell it what to do.”

Remus’ legs shook, and he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he didn’t. Instead he looked across the canyon. He’d never been there. With hardly a thought, he leaned forward. The rug took him in that direction.

Wind whipped past his face. He leaned as the cliffs got closer. The rug turned, and even though he wobbled, Remus stayed on.

The other dragons stared.

Remus smiled.

***

I was a guest speaker at a school this week, and we talked about Flash Fiction. These were the categories we came up with, so I thought I would use them for my Flash Fiction Friday! It sort of has the feel of a kid’s book, but not quite. I tried.

Western

Dragon

Rug

11-Jan-2019

Tags : Flash Fiction Friday

Still haven’t come up with Flash Fiction plan for 2019, so you get this random bit of I-May-Have-Watched-Too-Much-Supernatural-Last-Year.

The smell of must and old hung in the air. An ancient floor board creaked as Molly stepped on it. A chill ran down my spine as her shadow—dark compared to the beam of my flashlight—crawled along the floor.

“Are you sure we should be here?” I asked.

Molly didn’t bother to look over her shoulder. “Do you want to stop these attacks or not, Brian?”

Of course I wanted the attacks to stop. Three people had died and six more lay unresponsive save for eternal screaming in the psych ward of the hospital.

“Why do they always pick these old houses?” I grumbled.

“Because they feel comfortable in broken places.”

Molly had a point.

“Now be quiet,” she said.

I sighed and tightened my grip on the flashlight.

I never should have told Molly that I could see them.

Another creak sounded from the floor. Then the whisper of a breeze went past my ear.

My hand shot and grabbed Molly’s shoulder.

She looked back, a scowl on her face. I pointed to the room on my right. When she saw that her lips formed on ‘O.’

Like all of the others, a cracked wooden door barred our way. The lock had been ripped out years before, yet the door stood closed.

Sweat broke out on my forehead and I licked my lips.

Molly hefted her pistol—full of salt and silver—and jerked her head at the room.

The door bowed out ever so slightly, as if the room were breathing. I lowered my eye to the hole where the lock used to be and gazed inside.

A broken bed sat along one wall, and the remains of a dresser stood opposite. Five translucent people huddled in the far corner of the room—two women, one man and two children. They looked human, but the aura around them spiked black and red.

I glanced back at Molly, who stroked the trigger of her gun, and held up five fingers.

She nodded and motioned for me to get back.

The cold from the room beyond started to seep into the hall, and I pressed myself against the opposite wall.

Molly raised a foot and slammed the bottom against the door. A burst of silver exploded from where she hit, and the door flung open.

“Beyond the bed,” I said.

The ghosts’ eyes narrowed as they looked past Molly to me.

I glared right back and covered my ears.

Molly shot, and a spray of the salt and silver peppered the corner of the room.

The sound of the gun hammered against my brain, and I hated myself for forgetting ear protection. Again.

The man and one of the children got thrown against the wall, where the little pieces of silver kept them from moving or disappearing. Their forms shifted between human and monster, complete with dripping fangs, glowing red eyes and scaly hides.

The other woman surged forward, right into Molly’s second volley of shots.

“Watch the floor,” I yelled.

Molly pulled her other pistol and aimed at the floor in front of her feet. She hit the child.

“One left!” I shouted.

Instead of attacking, the last woman hissed, revealing to rows of teeth, and sunk through the floor.

The four pinned specters flickered in and out of reality, clinging on to their home here in the earth. Molly moved forward with a steel cross.

The little boy on the floor, trying to tug his arm free, wailed as the steel touched his skin. The sound turned into a shriek as she drove the cross into his eye.

Then, like blowing on ash, he disappeared.

“One of them went down.” I pointed.

Molly quickly finished the others, who tried to gnash and bite her, before turning back to me. Her green eyes bore into mine. “Find it.”

I nodded and moved back out into the hall. The cold air bit at my lungs, and all of the hair on my body stood on end. I froze.

Molly walked right into me. “What is it?”

“They’re here,” I whispered. At least ten pairs of glowing red eyes regarded me with hate.

“Here?” Molly asked.

The largest of the bunch, standing just a few feet away, growled.

Molly let out a gasp. “I can see them.”

My hand dropped to my waist, where I’d tucked a crowbar. “We need to get out.”

“Down the back stairs. Follow me.”

Before she could move, the specters flickered, and then turned back into human form.

Humans I knew.

Humans who had been attacked.

A young girl gazed up at me with fear in her eyes. “Why are you killing us, brother?”

“She’s not real,” Molly said through gritted teeth. I felt her shoulder bump mine as we ended up back to back.

The girl stepped forward. “Join us.”

I shook my head.

A voice sounded from behind me. A woman. My friend. My lover. My life. “Kill her and join us.”

“They’re not real,” Molly said again.

I blinked to clear my vision, and a tear ran down my cheek. “I brought her, like you asked.”

“What did you do?” Molly asked.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Molly yelled and fired.

I fell to my knees.

The little girl’s aura brushed mine. “Thank you, brother.”

I shivered as cold gripped me. Molly continued to fight, but I followed the cold.