Friday Fictioneers – Everything Is Breakable.

dismantled keyboard

This photograph belongs to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, and if you wish to take part in Friday Fictioneers, head to her blog. Just a warning, my contribution is quite dark this week.

Andrew felt his girlfriend’s hand tightly grip his own as they followed their guide past groups of eclectic objects. She claimed they should spend more time together, but perhaps she’d hoped for something more romantic.

“This is a keyboard they found in his apartment,” the guide began. “He liked to take things apart.”

After seeing broken clocks, torn books and smashed ornaments, they were taken to an eerily dark room. The walls were saturated with bloody images of unrecognizable humans.

The guide gestured to a photograph.

“This was his first victim.” The guide paused. “He liked to take things apart.”


Alastair’s Photo Fiction – Cold Hands


Copyright – Alastair Forbes

This flash fiction was written in response to a prompt from Alastair’s Photo Fiction blog.

All that’s left of them are bones buried under the battlefield. Those, and the sibilant whispers that echo through the corridors of my home. I washed the blade so carefully, sluicing off the evidence of combat until no sticky, scarlet drops tarnished the steel. I see my face reflected in its surface, and I know that something still contaminates this sword. Something that will not be washed, polished or buffered away. Perhaps the blood penetrated below the surface, and that is from where it speaks.

“You could be us,” they hiss. “You looked into our eyes as you killed us and we saw that you knew. You knew that the sword in our belly could as easily have pierced yours. That Death would have collected you as swiftly, would have opened His arms as wide, and would have swallowed your life as easily as He swallowed ours. From His land we watched you revel in your victory. One day, you will feel our cold hand on your shoulder and you will know that we are equals…”

Taking Back The Crown: Part Five

So, I’ve been recovering from my compulsory tour. It was pretty tiring, but certainly a very interesting place. It was quite inspiring and I hope to be able to do some flash fiction based on the things I saw in the near future.

Today’s post is a little longer, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

It had been three days since Sonya had accepted her invitation to stay, but now she was growing anxious. Where was Trin? She’d walked to the path every day and sat under the same tree. She did her exercises and waited. And waited. And waited. She knew that something was wrong. Sonya knew that Trin had told her not to go back to the Palace by herself, but she couldn’t just stay here forever. If she could get into the Palace without being seen and just find out what was going on, maybe she wouldn’t be taking that much of a risk.

In the corridor near the ballroom, there was a small cubbyhole in the wall that was hidden behind a dull, greying tapestry. Sonya transported herself to inside the hole; hopefully nobody would look behind the tapestry. She could hear a buzz of activity. Harsh Rutilus voices drew near.

“Has anyone heard from Vyant?” one voice rasped.

“No. He wait to tell anyone else where Trin hid the little girl before leaving. The little bitch probably killed him.” The second voice was human. Female.

“We need to find her. She might be a kid now, but she’ll cause problems in the future.”

“She can’t defeat us on her own, and Trin and Naria are gone. They’re never coming back to bother us.” The woman was triumphant.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“There’s an abyss in the Back Desert that’s so deep, by the time you stop falling, you’re in Hell. We threw them down there. The evil aura that pervades the desert? That abyss is the source. Litian Royalty has been vanquished there before. It’s well documented.”

Without realizing it, Sonya gave out a despairing moan. The voices stopped and the tapestry was ripped back. Sonya found herself looking into the black eyes of woman she’d never seen before. She had piercings and tattoos similar to traditional Rutilus ones. If she’d had the time, Sonya would have wondered if she’d spent time in the Back Desert. The Rutilus was only a metre behind this sorceress, his eyes full of glee at their find.

Before Sonya had time to think, the dark eyed magician tried to hit her with some plasma, but she rolled out of the cubbyhole just on time, straight between the woman’s legs and the attack missed. The woman tried to turn around but Sonya attacked the back of her head, sending a spray of blood into the tapestry. As Sonya watched the magician slump forward, a searing pain whipped across her shoulder and back. She turned to see the Rutilus raising a ball of energy in his hand. He threw it and she reflected it back at him, sending him flying back against the wall.

By the time her enemies were unconscious, more Rutilus and magicians were running towards her from all directions. She warped back to Natetern before they could grab her.