Writing

The Dark Priestesses

Their lord was captured by the priestesses of the Dark Sect.
She couldn’t let them have him. He was a good soul and needed to be saved.

She got her sword, mounted the mare and whistled for her companion dog.
In a minute they were flying through the woods, avoiding the branches and roots, trying to find the hidden shrine of the dark priestesses.

It wasn’t easy.
The woods were dark and very dense. Riding amongst its trees wasn’t a smooth ride.
Sometimes it also felt like they were going in circles. Maybe they were indeed.
And on top of it all, there was powerful dark magic protecting the shrine from being discovered.

But they needed keep trying.
His life was at risk and the villagers needed him.

She summoned her own Gods to help her on her quest. Hoping they’d help.

After two days riding, stopping only briefly to eat, and having had almost no sleep, the dog sniffed the air and started to bark and howl.
The mare panicked and wouldn’t go on.
She could also feel it. They were getting close.

She tethered the mare at a nearby tree and called the dog to come with her.

As they walked towards the force emanating from the trees, she became weak, her mind was going blank, but she was still struggling. She had to be strong to safe her lord.

After a few minutes of very hard walk, they came to clearing, where the priestesses were standing in a circle, with her lord tied up in the middle, subjugated, kneeling at the center, his head down.

She only had time to hear the spell before passing out herself.

 

Goddess of

the unliving!

 

I proclaim

this person

to your

eternal service,

on death.

 

Her lord was deceased…


This post was written for the Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest #3, hosted by Carrot Ranch.

The challenge today was to write a piece of fiction of about 200-300 words, that included a septolet as a spell or a charm.

Initially I though only the septolet would be required and crated the one above naming is “Verborragic Avada Kedavra”. But it was only once the rules were posted, and I leaned it should be in the middle of a story, that I created the story around it to go with it.

The winner for this contest was announced yesterday at the Carrot Ranch.

Congratulations to Deborah Lee!

Good job to all the participants!

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Writing

When I Grow Up

“When I grow up I want to be an astronaut!
I want to go up in the sky, travel the universe and make friends from out of this world.
They’ll be fun, with their green skin, long antennae and several eyes.
Or else, or else…
Their loooooooong skinny body and big head with 2 black eyes.
Or else, or else…
Their slimy grayish and gross slug-like shape
Or else, or else…”

“How about with their proportional body, brown eyes and blond curly hair?”

“Yes! That one too!
Wait!… That sounds like my friend Kevin.
Oh…… Is he an alien too????”

 


This post was written for the Flash Fiction Rodeo Contest #1.

The rules for contest #1 was that we tried to go back in time to when we were 6 years old and remember what we wanted to be when we grew up. The size of the text should be of 100 words only.

To be honest, when I was little, I actually wanted to be a dressmaker, then later I switched to either tennis of volleyball player.

So no, I never really wanted to be an astronaut, but I had friends who did, so I used their ambition rather than mine, since it seemed cooler… ;o)

The results for the contest were published yesterday, and the winner was Hugh Roberts, with and awesome entry of a boy who wants to be Santa. See here the winner’s announcement post with his entry and some other picks.

Congrats Hugh! And well done everyone!

Writing

A lost key

I was running late for a meeting and in the rush I dropped my key.
She saw me dropping it, grabbed it and came after me.

“Sir, sir, you lost your key.”

I couldn’t go on without my key, so in spite of the hurry I had to stop. And when I turned to grab my key and thank the lady, time stopped too. Everything did. All I could see was the personification of beauty and gentleness handing me my own key.

Then a car honked nearby waking me from that dreamy state, I grabbed the key shyly, said thank you and ran to the office. Just to found out the meeting had been cancelled.

She never left my thoughts that day and the days that followed.

About a week later I saw her again. I was almost running late again, but couldn’t care less, I just had to talk to her.

We met, we talked, we walked together around town, we laughed, we exchanged phone numbers, emails, instant messaging ids, we fell in love.

We joked that on that first encounter, the key she handed me was actually the key to her heart.

We were happy together.

For a few years….

Then, time passed, life happened and that warm feeling started to cool down.
For her, not really for me.
I was still warm by her side.

One day she sits me at the couch, in from of her, and announces she’s leaving. She still loves me, but not in the same way as before. Not be to my wife anymore. Maybe friends if I want her friendship.

I tear comes down my cheek, I can’t say anything. She turns and leaves.

I can’t find that key anymore… It is lost.


This post was written based on the prompt A lost key, from Writer Write’s October prompts.

Writing

Beware of the Chicken

They were playing hide and seek.

There was one spooky house no one ever dared to go.

He wasn’t afraid. The only thing was a sign about attacking chicken.

Pfff… Chicken? Seriously?

He got in and a gigantic shadow formed around him. Shaped like chicken. He was the size of a worm…


This post was written in response to the Writespiration #134 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 40, hosted by Sacha Back.

Writing

Fiction: On display

They were visiting the Wild Western museum. During their visit, the guests could dress up.

He decided to prank her. All dressed up, he hid in one of the displays.
Stubbornly, he would only show himself after being found.

A few hours later, the lights went off and the museum’s doors closed…

 


This post was written in response to the Writespiration #134 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 39, hosted by Sacha Back.

Writing

The Artist

When he was still on diapers, he drew his first squiggly line.
A wind blew and a piece of colored yarn flew squiggling past him.

As a toddler, he would draw clouds, and the wind would bring some clouds to an otherwise clear sky.

As a kid, he would draw cars, and his parents never understood how come he had so many toy cars.

Then, at age 13, he started to draw monsters.
Family and friends from school or the neighborhood were suddenly disappearing from earth.

Not him!
He was always spared, as he was the beasts creator…
Their father!

TheArtist

 


This post was written in response to the March 9: Flash Fiction Challenge, hosted by Carrot Ranch. The idea is to write a story with exactly 99 words, no more, no less, around the prompt word. This week the word is Monster.

 

 

 

Writing

Library

He lives in the streets. No mom. No dad. Steals food to survive, but doesn’t like it. The other boys are bad. He doesn’t want to be bad.

He learns how to read from a homeless sir he befriended.

He would read anything and everything. His dream is to attend school.

He asks the mailman to give him some leftover pamphlets to read, and receives even more.

The mailman talks to the people in the neighborhood who start to donate books to the boy.

He’s still homeless, but now the pushes a cart around with his own personal library.

reading


This post was written in response to the March 2: Flash Fiction Challenge, hosted by Carrot Ranch. The idea is to write a story with exactly 99 words, no more, no less, around the prompt word. This week the word is Library.

My story was inspired by (although not true to) the story of the Utah boy, who received thousands of books after the mailman in his apartment complex decided to post an ask in facebook for people to send books to the boy, who wanted to read but had no books at home.

Picture was taken from pixabay.com.