Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Posts tagged ‘Flash!Friday’

Of Mortal Men


This piece was written for Flash Friday, other submissions, posting guidelines and rules can be found here.

Desert survival depended on the gods. Elsme’s modest shrine was centrefold of a picturesque Oasis; as such she was blessed with routine worshippers. Over time devoted followers built a temple in her honour. Elsme was pleased. When a ragged boy appeared before her, she took him as her own and the people praised her virtues.

Her child grew, strong and devoted. Her people grew wealthy and proud. The blessings of Elsme became legendary and soon tribes began to covet the Her Oasis. Once such tribe descended as an oncoming horde; weathered and honed by the desert. Before long her precious child was called to war; assailing her fears with a promise to return. Disaster upon her, the goddess wept; cracking the heavens to flood the blood churned sands. Elsme sat on her throne, and waited. The hourglass filled the temple. The once beautiful Oasis dried up yet still she waited. One day he would return.


Envy’s a bitch – Flash Friday Vol. 2-9

ImageNew photo prompt challenge courtesy of Flash Friday.  This contains mild horror.  🙂

“You can’t escape, you know.” Sarah stroked the cold metal of the javelin that lay across her lap. She glowered at the grovelling woman at her feet. She was thin, petite and had a nice face under the make-up streaks. Sarah would kill for her functional legs. She prodded the snivelling figure with the javelin, “Hey, why did you appear, anyway? Aidan and I were happy.” She dug the sharp end into the woman’s side, receiving a whimper as a reward. “Hey, you should run,” she said, prodding the woman upright. “I can’t catch you; I’m stuck in this chair.” Another prod. A stumbling reward. “Run!” Finally the woman burst into a shaky run, tears pouring down her cheeks. “About time,” Sarah murmured, with a cold smile of feral pleasure. She turned her wheelchair around, drew back the javelin and aimed. The huntress downed her prey; after all Sarah was a para-olympian and envy was a bitch.

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