Project 32 'Night Hound'

Short Story: Green

The end of the world happened slowly; as most things do. The plants began to disappear—one by one becoming extinct—too gradually for the general public to take seriously. When they did notice, humanity shrugged it off as the natural cycle of things.

And then it was the animals. That was harder to ignore.

It was the pollinators first, of course. Without their help, much of the flora could not proliferate as they once had. The lack of sunlight, of fertile soil, of bees or butterflies or hummingbirds were the beginnings of the end. Grassy meadows became barren deserts and lush forests became wasteland littered with twigs and branches—the corpses of once-mighty trees. Green became a lost color.

There weren’t many humans left when Zoe found hope and began her journey. The last human interaction she had was years ago to a man dying of smoke sickness; a common story for the few still alive. The ever-smoking towers brought industry, jobs, prosperity for a while…before they brought illness and death.

Over time, the smog and ash the towers spewed blocked out the sun, displaced the air, and changed the color of the world. Those who inhaled too much of the toxic fumes died slow deaths. Many grew up breathing it, assured by charismatic politicians that it was not harmful. They didn’t want to see past the lies; humans were an optimistic species after all.

Zoe walked past one of the many ever-smoking towers—still spewing death into the air—and took a moment to gaze at the darkened sky. She wondered what the sun might have looked like; what it still might look like hiding behind that veil of black and gray. There were stories, of course, but she liked to imagine that the sun was green.

With one hand, she adjusted the breather that sat over her nose and mouth, clutching a small egg-shaped container in the other before continuing her stroll, stopping at at a flickering metal box that matched her in height. An oxygen vending machine.

She had stopped by every O vendor she had come across in her years-long journey. Air was something she could not afford to let run low. Her expedition was a long one and she didn’t even have a notion of when it would end. It was better to refill her breather as often as possible before there would be nothing left; when soon—she assumed—there would be a large stretch where there would be no more O vendors to provide breathable air. She didn’t know when or where, but she knew it was inevitable. There were only so many O vendors that could have been put up before the smoke sickness claimed too many lives to justify the expense and many were already running low on supply.

She inserted a plastic card into the machine and fresh air was pumped into her mask. She breathed it in appreciatively, taking in the slight chemical smell of the original container and wondered what air from plants smelled like as she crossed empty streets and passed more ever-smoking towers.

Her destination was far but she was almost there; or so she hoped. Just a little farther, she kept telling herself, repeating it every so often. Her personal mantra.

She held the little container close to her, afraid that she might lose it; that it might slip and tumble down somewhere she could never hope to reach; that it might wither before she got to the one place in the world the sun was said to touch. The Sunpatch she had been seeking since she had found the egg-shaped thing—her hope—that she carried with her.

She had walked for so long with no direction save for the little information she had managed to gather after so much research on the Sunpatch. Much of it were rumors that lead to dead ends, others were educated guesses when information was obviously incomplete. She hoped to the hidden sun that the one she followed now wasn’t another dead end. It was her last lead and she was so old and so tired.

Her elderly legs hurt and her feet were numb from so much walking but she soldiered on as always. Zoe was determined to get the little egg-shaped thing to the Sunpatch no matter the cost to herself.

Her journey was a lonely one; solitary but never by choice. Often she wished that she could have company; another of her kind. The egg was a good listener but not much for conversation. Had the world not ended, her conversations with egg would be seen as madness but there was no one now to judge her.

For years, she trudged through desert and dead forests and broken cities and rock fields. She searched every used-to-be settlement for survivors—but always found no one—and stopped by every defunct food store to stock up on liquid snack cakes, bottled water, and portable air cans. On rare occasions, she even found running water in the long-abandoned cities. In those, she had the luxury of a quick bath and change of clothes. This wasn’t one of those cities.

She chose a building that looked to be in good shape and tried the door. Locked. A quick glance around found her some rubble; pulled up concrete from a sidewalk.

The aging woman lifted the heavy fragment and hurled it at the window, shattering the glass in an explosive cacophony of clinking, clanging, and crashing. No one will care about a broken window. No one is here to care.

She swiped the opening with a balled up rag, sweeping away bits of broken glass before carefully climbing in; agile despite her age.

The space was lined with mostly-empty shelves that made little paths. Zoe noted these as she passed the counter with an old register caked with dust sitting on top of it. It must have been a corner store once.

She searched and found a few bottles of liquid snack cakes and water. No canned air, unfortunately. Whomever owned the business—or perhaps survivors that had fled the city in search of better homes away from the towers—had taken most of the supplies before they had gone.

Opening and attaching one of the little bottles of liquid snack to her breather via a short, thick straw, she sucked on the meal, reading the text on the bottle. She had read them a million times but the mind needed something to keep from going mad and with the world so empty there weren’t many options. “Now with 50% less fat and 100% more calories!” it claimed. What a load of ash.

Zoe rested well that night before awaking to bottles and cans strewn about the former shop. Wakefulness came slowly and she didn’t notice the peculiarity of the out-of-place things at first. It was after a few blinks that it registered. “No! No no no! Where is it?!”

Her heart skipped a beat and she went into a frenzy looking for the little egg-shaped container; missing from the rotten pillow where she had left it before falling into an exhausted slumber. She dug through her rucksack, searched every nook, every cranny, and under every store shelf, but found nothing but rubbish.

The floor was sticky from spilled snack cakes, their bottles chewed by the incisors of a small creature. She had no guesses as to what it could have been but it had left a trail of liquid-snack footprints to follow and so she got to tracking the thief.

The tracks lead her to the store’s backroom; dark without electricity to light the way. She squinted, backing up a bit to where there was light enough to see as she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a small metal flashlight. She shook it a few times, and then flicked the switch on its side. The beam of light flickered before holding steady.

She ventured into the dark room, sweeping the light beam from side to side in an effort to continue tracking the creature that pilfered her hope. The backroom was in worse wear than the store’s front. A thick blanket of dust and cobwebs covered just about every surface that wasn’t disturbed by a certain little thief. Zoe found the footprints again etched into the dust and followed them, taking care not to step on any of the impressions.

They lead her to stairs going down to a basement darker than the backroom. She gave her flashlight another shake before venturing the stairs—step by cautious step—holding the railing as she moved down. The old wood creaked under her weight and she feared that she would fall through, break her neck, and die in a dusty dark basement under an abandoned store in a long-forgotten city. For much too long, she tested every stair before proceeding.

Her feet found purchase on solid concrete ground fifteen minutes later. She swept light over the new room slowly, almost missing the bundled fur in the corner. There it is!

The rat turned when the light touched its black fur and hissed. Behind it was the egg-shaped container that Zoe had been looking for; a bit scratched up but otherwise fine.

She crouched down on creaky knees and attempted to reason with the animal, “Come on now, I need that.”

The rodent responded with another hiss, back fur prickling up.

Slowly as to not make any sudden movement, she retrieved a bottle of liquid snack cake from her bag. “How about a trade then?” She twisted the lid open.

The rodent watched her intently, the over-sweet smell of liquid cake entering its nostrils and masking every other scent in its tantalizing aroma. It wiggled its nose in satisfaction as it began to salivate.

“You like that don’t you?” Zoe cooed, removing the lid completely. She poured a small amount of the contents onto the floor in front of her, “Come on. I know you want it.”

The rat hesitated before cautiously approaching.

She poured more liquified food onto the floor, pooling it up for the little scoundrel.

Temptation and instinct overwhelmed the rodent and it scurried to the food. It lapped up the thick batter; greedy from hunger.

The human added to its meal, pouring a bit more for it before righting herself and walking around the rat to the egg. She bent down and retrieved her hope up off of the floor, giving it a quick inspection under her flashlight when she was standing again. “Well, you didn’t damage it too much…” she said to the hungry rodent, “I’ve got to go now, little rascal. Enjoy your meal.”

She carefully made her way around the sticky mess and the rat to the foot of the stairs and frowned at it, annoyed at having to climb back up. Fear began to well up in her at the thought of falling and so she took a moment to breathe, steeling her nerves for the ascent. I made it down all right; I can make it up again…

The rat squeaked then, interrupting an otherwise still scene. She turned her light on it as it ran in a circle once, twice, and then scurried to the shadows of the back wall. “Where are you going?”

The rat squeaked again as Zoe realized a bit late that this rodent is the first sign of life she had found in her travels in years. She had been too focused on retrieving her stolen hope that she had nearly missed the fact that this creature survived the smoke-sickness that was choking the life of nearly every living thing…and it wasn’t wearing a breather. Here?! No…we’re too close to towers…but it has to breathe somehow…

She touched the latch of her breather, tempted to remove it to see if perhaps the air was breathable here, but she thought better of it. If I die here, it’s over for real. There will be no hope left…Some animals had adapted to breathe less air and this rat was probably one of them. She couldn’t be fooled by it.

Instead, she followed the rat deeper into the dark; hand outstretched, shaking the flashlight every once in a while as if it would keep the battery going.

It wasn’t long before the rat lead her to a hole in the wall just big enough for Zoe to crawl into. The old woman sighed and considered turning around. The rat squeaked impatiently at her before scampering into the tunnel.

Against better judgement, she latched the flashlight to the shoulder strap of her pack, slipped the egg into one of its more secured pockets, and got on her hands and knees.

She crawled through the tunnel, surprised that it didn’t narrow or end so abruptly. Someone must’ve dug this before they left the city. Stinging pain throbbed in her old knees as she continued shuffling forward, following a used-to-be common pest through a tunnel under a convenience store.

The passage was longer than Zoe had ever expected an improvised excavation could be. She had to stop and take breaks, maneuvering herself into a more comfortable laying position every so often to rest. It lead deep into the earth before steadily slanting upwards; so gradual that Zoe hadn’t noticed until light shone through ahead of her.

Eager to escape the cramped walls, she quickened her crawl toward the light. She didn’t know how long she had been shuffling in the subterranean tunnel but she guessed from her backaches and bruised knees that it must have been a while.

She pulled herself from the hole, moving dirt and small rocks as she surfaced. The light was blinding after some time in underground darkness and her chest was starting to feel tight. She had enough air for at least another day! Surely she hadn’t been traversing underground for that long! But she was gasping for air, struggling to fill her lungs. Her breather was running low.

Panic starting to intrude on her psyche, Zoe desperately scanned her surroundings. Massive dirt and rock walls bordered her from the outside world. Stalactites hung from the earthen ceiling above, drops of water falling from their tips in rhythmic succession. She found herself in a vast cavern of sunken earth; nowhere near an O vendor.

All of this for nothing…because of my foolishness…because I followed a rat of all things!

As if in response to her distress, a whistling gust of wind—gray particles dancing within it—embraced Zoe in its cooling hug before racing up toward an opening in the ceiling, blowing out of it like a volcano and parting the endless gray-black clouds of the ever-smoking towers. It was from that opening that a beam of yellow light pointed to a single circular patch of yellow-green before dissipating a moment later.

Zoe’s eyes widened at the sight; brief but certain. She had been searching for so long and here it was; hidden under a city, under ever-smoking towers that blocked from view the few moments of sun that managed to touch earth periodically when upward wind broke black clouds. She stifled tears as she approached the Sunpatch.

Reverently, she held the egg-shaped container in both hands, dropping to her knees before the little patch of life. With shaking hands and burning lungs, she set the egg aside and began to dig, clawing the earth with bony fingers until she was satisfied with the divot she had made.

Dizziness was setting in as she lifted the egg and popped it in twain above the little hole, dropping a singular ball—smaller than her fist—into the exposed earth. The tightness in her chest was nearly unbearable by the time she buried the seed.

Her life’s mission finally complete, she smiled with satisfaction; with all the love and hope she could possibly give to the world. As the wind returned, quickly flying toward the opening in the ceiling, she laid her tired body down and faced the beam of sun as it came in for another few precious moments. Her air had run out and the world was closing in around her; replaced by an overwhelming serenity. The tension left her body, smile softening but never vanishing as she stared at the mound she had created and the brilliant streak of dusty yellow light that caressed it.

The sun wasn’t green but it was beautiful.

Originally published on renalawhead.com on July 22, 2024

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s all in the eyes 

Thank you for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

No warnings

Word Count: 608

It was the final day of the grand celebration and Rue was late. Tapping his finger against the table, Kaliyah scanned the crowd again. It wasn’t like her to be this late. Normally it wouldn’t have been of much concern to him, but he had been itching to discuss the latest reports with her since they had come in with the afternoon meal. He’d managed to intercept most of the interesting tidbits today, but the information would only be good for so long. Once the council got wind of it, their advantage would be wasted, and he could already tell that one report would be of particular interest to many at the event. Rue’s keen sense of their cohabitants was vital to finding the best buyer, and they were running out of time.  

A crack of thunder suddenly split the sky, startling the attendants and drawing their attention. Vibrant blues and greens filled the night air overhead, as a flurry of water droplets began to cascade towards them, suspending just above the heads of the guests. Kaliyah’s hand relaxed on the hilt of his blade as recognition dawned on him. Of course it would be him. Scowling Kaliyah continued to silently scan the crowd for any devilry as the other attendants watched small constructs form from the water droplets with complete devotion. Kaliyah even found himself glancing at the intricate constructs dancing across the sky in an elaborate dance despite his irritation. 

As the performance was reaching its height of action, a great serpent of water rose up consuming the constructs, rolling itself into a sphere that quickly shrunk into a solid form and landed at the feet of the council, refined into a shining pearl of the sea. The crowd erupted into applause as one of the council servants rushed forward to present the stone to the council head, who inspected it with greedy eyes.

The disrespectful undertone of the performance and its conclusion seemed to have been ignored by the participants,  who seemed content with the grandeur of the performance, but Kaliyah shuddered to think what such a statement could mean. That man didn’t make such boisterous plays mindlessly. Looking towards the door, Kaliyah watched Lan silently step into the courtyard, towering over everyone as usual, in a very unusually flashy dress. The crooked smile plastered on his face painted him as the picture of geniality, but Kaliyah didn’t miss the flash of darkness that passed through his eyes as he bowed to the council. When the noise from the crowd finally died down as they returned to their revelry, an air of excitement still lingered from the performance. Lan never disappointed. 

Growing uneasy at his unexpected appearance, Kaliyah made ready to sneak away from the party, but as he was approaching the exit he caught sight of Rue. She looked beautiful, adorned in a simple dress and practically glowing as she quietly offered Lan a beverage. Kaliyah almost reached out to her, but having no desire to intrude, he swallowed his pride, turning to leave. If she had chosen Lan then he would respect her decision. 

‘Come now Capitan, don’t keep Mrs. Rue waiting.’

Turning suddenly Kaliyah caught sight of a small water construct in the shape of a snake that seemed to smile at him mischievously before dissipating.Turning towards Lan, half fuming, he caught Rue’s gaze and stood in shock as a light blush spread over her cheeks. Had they not come together? Catching Lan’s expression, Kaliyah felt his ears burn slightly at the hint of mirth filling his cold eyes. The old snake had definitely planned this.

What's Bloodmage about? 👀👀👀

(I adore the title by the way)

Thanks for the ask! Sorry in advance for the ramble...

Oh boy, how to describe this one... (I will preface this story as insanity with plot. Most of the characters are severely brain damaged or willing to follow along with the crazies to keep them safe, and I love them all. )

An unofficial squad of soldiers and cryptids are trying to stop a vampire cult (who has infiltrated and overtaken a large world power) that plan to block out the sun and take over the world. All while a large war is happening in the background under the orcestration of the vampires. Most ordinary soldiers have no idea what is going on, and a collection of governing cryptids are trying to keep it that way.

After the squad is forcefully split up thanks to the trickery of the enemy leader, the medic of the group is in a plane crash while trying to reunite with the others. The wreck happens to land in a ritual cite put together by the vampires in an attempt to bolster their numbers with another type of volitile cryptid called bloodmages.

Caught up in the ritual, the medic is turned into a bloodmage, but he is one of the severely brain damaged characters and flasely concludes that he has been turned into a vampire. Unable to end himself with the traditional methods, he decides to find his fellow squad mates to continue their goal only to get caught up in another mess involving bloodmage politics.

Extra context: Bloodmages are beings who have been implanted with red blood crystals that are harvested from a deep pit known as the mouth of hell. After a long comatose incubation period the blood mages awake with enhanced durability/longevity and powers unique to their specific brood (powers have pretty significant variability with some potential for overlap such as the ability to make constructs, bombs, and weapons from their blood/blood they condense store up from others). Along with their other abilities, bloodmages are incredibly mentally unstable unless they have something or someone to tether them to reality. This makes them great short term soilders due to their drive for violence, but not for long term use as they tend to start attacking one another if they grow bored with easy combat.

Thanks again for the ask, I've been really bad about keeping on this one due to some hang-ups with the plot, but I love it to death :)

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

A Bad Time to Remember the Past

I wasn't planning on putting this guys perspective up yet, but it seemed to fit for the prompt, so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Discriptions of medical procedures, violence, blood, burning skin, laceration, and dismemberment.

@wyked-ao3 (a bit more on the villain of my story. He now has a proper name! Albrecht)

Glossary:

(In case you are curious about any of the terms in the medical procedure)

Topical Benzocaine: a gel spread on skin to numb before injections.

Articaine: a type of numbing agent injected locally in tissue to numb an area.

Epinephrine: used in local anesthesia to increase the duration of numbness by constricting blood vessels in the area and preventing the local anesthesia from being absorbed by the blood stream as quickly.

Buccal: the gum tissue covering the outer side of teeth.

Palatal: tissue over the top of the mouth on the inner side of the teeth.

Maxila: upper jaw

Nerve block: an injection that targets higher on a nerve branch to numb more tissue at once.

Infiltrations: injections that target a specific area and numbs the nerves directly adjacent to the injection by targeting the approximate location.

Now, back to the story.

Topical benzocaine followed a minute after by 2 carpules of Articaine HCI 4% 1:100,000 epi. Infiltrations for the buccal and a nerve block for the palatal side of the right maxila. Within minutes he’d watched as the surgeon took out a scalpel and carefully cut gum tissue down to the bone and gently peeled it back as the patient lay, mouth open, not even flinching. Then the drill had come, and with a whir of mechanical power, the bone was carefully bored down to expose the gaping sinus.

Of all the things that Albrecht had been forced to observe in his mandatory job placement hours, this was the one that really stood out to him. It was fascinating what a little chemical compound could do to dull the senses. He’d even been able to hold a mundane conversation with the man about his line of work while the surgeon scurried off to attend some other matters.

Another wave of explosions rocked by him. Albrecht’s head screamed in pain as that long forgotten memory snapped back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. With both armies cowering in the darkness, he should have been on the cusp of his victory, the whole world bathed in beautiful darkness by his machines. Yet here he stood, recalling the memories of a child, a fool who didn’t understand the meaning of his own destiny.

Looking about him in confusion Albrecht’s teeth gnashed at the husks of his elite soldiers, boiled in their own skin at the shine of an artificial sun. Ever calculating, he could already see that what remained of his force wouldn’t last long after such a devastating attack. Ten blasted years of preparation… all for something like this? The fangs under his mask ached as he fought for control of his raging mind. His careful planning should have seen him to the end, in the way that it always had.

The power coursing through his veins spiked as the pieces of his strength once gifted to his thralls all began to converge back into him in a wave of sickening pressure. The feeling blinded him, and for the first time in his long life, Major Albrecht lost his ever firm grip on reason. Head snapping towards the source of his misfortune, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Using his powers, the Major smoothly dropped into the shadows and quickly traveled in their protection until he came upon the small vehicle, still driving away at a speed far beyond its natural means. There were four, no five of them, as far as he could tell, but it made no difference. They would all be dead soon enough.

With an enraged roar, Albrecht materialized in the shadow of the car and dug his teeth into the little warlock at greatest fault for this downfall. The man yelped in pain and raised one hand to secure the hat on his head before using another to push Albrecht away so he could stop the bleeding. He had no intention of letting him live.

A glimmer of something shiny peaked out from underneath, but he had little time to dwell on it as a stake was driven almost into his heart. Whirling around on the would-be attacker, the Major sunk his claws deep into their forearm, tearing through it with a growl of surprise at the strangely wooden texture. He grinned in satisfaction as a sharp hiss of pain rang out from whatever the thing was. It still felt pain, so even if it wasn’t human, he could still break it.

Half drunk on this strange ecstasy, he almost missed the smell of steel. His mind suddenly flared with a sense of danger, and he pulled away as a shot rang out, hitting the side of his helmet and exposing part of his face to the blasted false sun.

Like a bucket of boiling water, the pain brought him back into focus, and Albrecht immediately retreated into the shadows, taking the limb he’d managed to sever with him. With his armor damaged even this much, he wasn’t fool enough to risk an end to his plans even with his spiked blood lust.

Note: The procedure mentioned at the beginning of the chapter is for a sinus lift to increase the bone level enough to place a dental implant.

LOVE YOU MY MMOOTIE

*Runs and hides behind a wall in terrified introvert*

The End of A Story

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

No warnings, just the end of a little story.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. A horse, a bull, and a goblin walk into a bar…”

The minotaur rolled his eyes before slowly turning his attention back to his pint. 

“It was never a funny joke, Jerry, and I’m a pony anyway.”

The talking ‘pony’ raised her head from a bowl of hay to fix him with a disappointed look that wasn’t half so effective now that her eyes were almost as large as watery cue balls. 

“Ha, then why the long face?”

The minotaur snorted in amusement, not quite pulling his attention from his drink while the talking ‘pony’s ears flicked backward. 

“See I told you that the big guy was the only one that still has a shred of humor left. Anyway, what do you think of the place?”

The barkeep gestured to the ocean waves, lapping against the not so distant shore while giving them a wide smile. He’d gone for a resort look this time, taking advantage of the natural beauty of the coast line to compensate for his lack of decor. If nothing else could be said for him, he was good at making the best of a bad situation

“I like what you’ve done with the place, nice open air concept, now where’s my blasted money Jerry?”

The Goblin face poking over the table top was plastered with a sour expression as he watched the gold swing fron the barkeeps’ ears. 

“Have some more food.”

He placed another plate of carrots in front of the trio and went back to dealing with his other patrons, only glancing back over to their table occasionally to make sure that the group was still content. 

In the relative silence that quickly overtook the quaint establishment, a lone figure approached their table and set down a familiar looking lamp. 

“Ten years already passed… How time flies, but I wonder, are you still interested in changing back?”

There was no outburst this time, no bargaining or desperation that had been so often present in their past encounters. After a moment of silence passed between them, the Goblin grinned, his pearly white smile now mixed with shining golden teeth that complimented his velvet suit coat. 

“No, I think I speak for the lot of us when I say that won't be necessary. Now leave us to our meal, and we shall show you the same courtesy.”

The djinn chuckled ruefully at the results and disappeared, leaving the trio to continue their misadventures. He may have pegged them wrong, but they had been interesting to watch nonetheless, and there would always be others far less resilient to mess with.

Who is your favorite side character in your wip Bloodmage? What's one thing that character hates?

Thanks for the question!

That's a tough one. I have mainly focused on developing my main cast. Of the side characters that I have done more work on, though, one comes to mind more than the others.

Alasdair the King's right hand.

He's a half elf who was chosen as the king of the Fairies Bodyguard. He is a skilled fighter and considered the most dangerous of all fairies in combat despite his heritage. Due to his mixed blood, he is far bulkier than traditional elves, giving him an edge in pure strength.

There is a council of criptids that govern their groups and hold annual meetings to coordinate grievances and trade deals. During a heated argument, the king of the fairies picked a fight with the Representative for the blood mages Luis. During the insuing fight, Luis ripped Aladair's wings off and destroyed his left arm.

Even with this handicap he is still considered the most fit to be the bodyguard of the King, a fact that Luis uses to taunt the proud race when he gets irritated by them during the meetings.

Aladair dislikes Luis for the shame that he brought on the fairies, but he respects the bloodmage's strength. He hates himself for failing to protect his king's honor and is actively training other warriors to take his place.

Recall

@flashfictionfridayofficial thanks for the prompt!

It's not my best, but I am tired and have done what editing I can.

While trying to come up with a suitable partner for the arsonists of my group, I realized that i had missed a golden opportunity and decided to capitalize on that.

Warnings for imprisonment, violence, starvation tactics, referenced abuse.

He didn’t have a proper name, at least as far as he knew. He was mostly referred to as it or thing since he’d been woken, but when the lights of the circus came on, he was Blaze the fire abomination, one of the wonders of the modern world. It took him many beatings and nights of starvation to associate with the name, but after a time he supposed it became what he was, without any memories of what he had been before, there was little choice for him.

Cold Iron poked at his side, disturbing him from his fledgling slumber. Looking up with bleary eyes at the cold disgust half heartedly focused on him did little to ignite the flame in his chest, but little by little as Blaze started breathing again he could feel the pumps in his chest turning up the heat until the metal encasing him glowed with an orange hue. Never enough to burn through the metal, they didn’t give him enough fuel for that, just enough to make a spectacle of himself.

His captor was saying something again in a frustrated tone, but Blaze wasn’t sure what he had done now, and he didn’t bother to try and understand their vulgar words anymore. When the door to his cage was indicated with another prod to his ribs, he moved towards the slowly opening gate. There was no point in rushing himself. They would just take that as an attempt to flee. As it stood, his supply of fuel was getting dangerously low, and if this persisted much longer, he wouldn’t make it through another winter. Everything was so cold already that he would be surprised if he made it to the end of the summer.

Sweat trickled down his captors face as Blaze stepped out of the metal cage, almost instantly setting the wooden boards of the stage ablaze. Grunts and exclamations of fear and confusion drove him back into the protection of his cage as he watched the fire being quickly extinguished and the boards being replaced by metal plating. It was all part of the routine. He just had to make it believable. So he mimicked the fear that they had trained him to exhibit and let out a roar of false defiance, causing members of the crowd to gasp in fear.

With a practiced motion, the end of his leash was quickly secured before his flames had a chance to properly ignite. The shackle on Blaze’s remaining arm had fused with his skin, making each tug the chain pull his wrist uncomfortably. He’d be paraded through the town again all the way to the circus grounds, and then he’d be put on display like every other town that he’d been to. To pass the time, he surveyed the crowd, making low grunts and growling sounds to elicit fear. His dull eyes flickered over the faces filled with fear and contempt until Blaze’s attention was suddenly drawn to a hooded figure exuding a strange smokey aura that stopped him dead in his tracks The sound of the busy street faded into dull echoes as the fire in his core began to roar louder than it had in years.

He took a step towards the hooded figure deftly pulling his chains along with him until he stood there instinctively straitening his twisted back until he was towering over them. At this, the figure leaned back its head, revealing a smile that made his roaring furness flicker with excitement.

‘you blaze like the sun’

A grumble of garbled words echoed from his soul as he tried to convey his admiration for this thing before him, but he’d been mute for so long he feared that the thing would fear him like all of the others. A burn scared hand shot out from under the robes, embracing his cold hands, sparking life into his withered bones.

“I accept.”

The figure let her cloak fall back to reveal a face twisted with scars, radiating a warmth that spread through him like a wild fire. The world was once more as it should be, burning in glorious flames. It was so simple, how could he have forgotten?

Introducing (drum roll) fire spirits (opposite of the forest guardians.

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Flash Fiction Friday is a fun writer event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12 pm CET).

And then, next Friday, we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before our next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots — or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

We ask you to tag your works with any appropriate content warnings and let the reader know what they’ll find before they get the chance to read your work!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask!

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/rUWCE8a

✨ We also introduced our very own Wishing Well, a place for you to whisper your prompt suggestions into. And we’ll listen! Check everything about it out HERE.

✨All your amazing works from last week can be found HERE.

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF 263 In The Meadows]

This prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous, thank you so much! What can we find lurking in the meadows? Perhaps it's somewhere that was and is no more? Are their flowers? Have they all but died? Is it a picnic? Or dandelions blowing in the wind? Whatever it is don't let it escape; write!

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The Collective <3

Talking to someone about monster ideas and came up with this one.

Krow's Abomination

This creature was a madman's failed attempt to artificially produce sentient life. The creature burrows under cities and primarily infiltrates children's dreams at night, replacing their dreams with its nightmares in order to offset the pain of its existence.

If left unchecked, the dreams steadily get darker and begin to twist the victim's minds under the control of the abomination, which then uses its victims to draw in others for it to feed on.

The best time to attack the creature is when it is trying to feed, but be warned that it's victims can and will alert the creature of any danger, even going so far as to sacrifice themselves for the creature to escape.

There have only been a handful of sightings since they were released into the world, but recently, a city suffered from an earthquake that drove a fifteen meter specimen to the surface. It proceeded to devoure the city's residence before succumbing to its injuries.

This incident indicates a level of patience and cunning that was not previously attributed to the creatures.