CaptainFaux
New Member
Hey! For the first time, ever, I will throw my work to the world with abandon. Here are a few of my flash fictiom pieces. Theyre like.... micro stories! I'm hoping to recover the ones hiding on another device as quite a few of them connect. Most of these, if not all, were composed at about 3 AM. Enjoy. PS: i havent read or edited these since they were written. Take that to heart. Im also using a phone to submit, so dont mind the strange formatting if it comes out wierd.
Johnny
"Now, Johnny... I hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into. Look. They've got at least two
dozen' rifles and half that in shot. You can't go off an' taken 'em alone. You know that." John
sighed. Grief hung on his shoulders like a wool cloak soaked in a winter storm. He ran a hand
through his hair, hoping the rock at the toe of his boot might shed some wisdom. "Damnit, Frank
I know but... but I... I can't just sit here an' do nothin'!" He looked up, tears in his eyes. That
killed the sheriff on the inside, because if there was anyone in this town that wouldn't be caught
tearing up it was Johnny. "Frank I've got to go. They raped my wife and hung my kid! You
don't... you just can't do that to man! I ain't got nothin' left no more." Hot as it was, there was
nothing but salt trails on his face, even with the shadow of his hat. John would care if it was
raining molten iron or if hell brought winter; he'd be riding to take revenge on the god forsaken
Bluetick Gang if it was the last thing he did. The sheriff knew it too and he didn't have a cent to
blame the poor man. But there wasn't much they could do with how well they holed up. All he
had was a winchester, his revolver and a useless deputy. How on God's earth were they going
to fix this?
1000 steps
When traveling the mountains it is customary to stop and give homage to the many piled stones
that mark the graves of those that didn't make the journey of the Thousand Steps. "Here lies
Elana, huntress, ambassador, mother. May she catch the Wild One in the worlds beyond." My
voice croaked and I laughed. I didn't realize I hadn't spoken in so long. I looked up, gaged the
time to be a bit past noon,"Perfect time for lunch, don't you think, Miss?" The sound my pack
made when it hit the ground was satisfying; it was heavy with a good trade and more than
satisfying to put down. I pulled out bread, broke off a bit for Elana as offering and a tallow
candle, too, which I lit. "May you find your mark." Meager prayer as it was, at least it was
something. I've seen enough to be a little more than superstitious. The bread was stale, though
still good. I wished it down with a bit of the mountain berry wine the locals made here. Elana got
a share as well. I figured the dead might fancy a bit of wine now and then. With my belly full and
spirits high, I sighed, all the weight of travel falling out of my shoulders and into the rock
beneath. I was finally able to take a moment and look out beyond the little nook I rested in.
Before me was a valley; Intural range on this side and the Pollak hills on the other. Nestled
between them was the most ideal spot you could imagine for a kingdom. A mountain's river,
likely the one that carved this range, ran through the middle, the Vitali. Nestled in the miles
between the hills and mountains was a prosperous, independent little nation. They had enough
space for fields, the river for water and trade, and protection on three sides. The wall to the
south, their weakest point, was about to be done given a year's time. Everything here was
blessed by the gods, they say, for no land is more bountiful. I was headed to the shrine atop the
mountain. The people in the valley say it's older than man and was here far longer than the first
settlers. I'm curious to study it's origins and perhaps gleam some truth out of it. "I must be on
my way, fair lady. I enjoyed your company. I'll be sure to stop again on my way down. Rest
well." With my pack up and ready, I set for the peaks.
Helpless
A heavy sigh, more of a sob than anything, fogged up the glass in front of her. Her hands and
face pressed up as hard as they could against the icy surface. Internally, she screamed, as loud
as her inner voice would allow. Her throat was raw and her voice had given out long ago. The
fog cleared and once again she had to look outside her transparent prison. For miles she could
see, in all directions (for the floor was glass as well), and for miles, in all directions, the city and
villages burned. Soldiers, armed with hard plate and shining silver swords, rampaged through
the valley that held the most peaceful and progressive sovereignty in the word. The woman's
heart could sink no further, and yet, as they approached the central structure of the province, it
fell further still. This building was a glorious construction; a great marble tower stretching far
above and wide as well. In it was at least three of every book around the world. The pride and
joy of her city, their emblem, their image... now burning. The terrible smoke and fires billowed
angrily from the windows on every floor. The deathly plume that rose above the city heralded
the destruction of a golden age. The queens hand bruised as she pounded at the walls, dying
more and more as each of her beautiful citizens did. There was nothing she could do. Her city
and people were lost and she forced to watch suspended above it all for refusing to sell them
into slavery. How could she? It is better they die than ever enter the Hell Pits, where their mind
and flesh are stripped away, replaced with vile orders and stinking, constricting leathers made
from their own skin. Better they die. Darkness came to the queen, for there was nothing left to
give. Her tears and voice and all her energy had died with her people, and so she conceded to
sleep as it overran her conciousness. Whatever lay ahead... it didn't matter anymore.
Safe in the woods
"The way the streams sing to me is always my favorite part of going to the woods," I said to the
millions of things around me. My back hurt from laying on the big, flat rock that I claimed since I
was five because I could never quite lay flat; there was always this upward bow in my back that
made uncomfortable surfaces even worse. But it was totally worth it. My island was perfect,
smack dab in the middle of a big stream. It was big and tall and the part that sloped up faced
upstream. It was sturdy. Defiant. My big old reliable, and wet, boulder. I couldn't tell you how
many days I've spent here, gently rocked to sleep by the stoney caress of the island and lulled
to sleep by the watery lullaby. When the fires came, it was the first place I went to. They never
went into the woods for some reason, even though they had the big guns on floaters and all
sorts of Firestarters. It was as if they were afraid. Oh well. Hopefully they'll be gone tomorrow.
It's been a week, I think. The days just kind of all seem the same anymore.
Moral dilemma
The woman, an aquaintence and no more, called out his name as he came at her from behind
her large oak desk. The windows behind them, looking over the busy little city below, gave away
no evidence thanks to the shadowy film on the outside. He quickly pulled out and spent himself
on her bare back, white, a million times over, splashed across smooth peachy flesh. The man
zipped himself up and sighed, shuddering as the wave of pleasure rippled across his body. The
woman was still bent over her desk, satisfied and exhausted, though dissapointed he wasted
himself on her ass. Lazarus looked stoic as ever as he left her office. He took the elevator three
floors down and made his way to another corner suite, this one looking over the park and river
that flanked this side of the building. A woman stood looking out at the scene, her arms gently
rubbing her belly as she daydreamed. She jumped a little as Lazarus hugged her from behind
and gently kissed her neck. "Ohhhhh..... everything is so sensative, now... quit that before I
make you take me here and now."He grinned and bit her, loving the way her body shivered
when he did. She turned to him, big gold eyes staring up at him; they were hungry. It had been
four months of no sex and she was dying. A soft and loving hand stroked her cheek and brought
her up to meet his lips. "You'll get it, don't worry. The doctor said it's dangerous now.
"I know," she pouted," but I want you now! Hmph!" The pretty little lady turned away and
returned to the window. Lazarus got a text, from the manager upstairs, saying "You earned
that promotion for sure, big boy ;) I'll see you next week. Tell the wife I said hello. I'm sure she'll
like the benefits.... so long as I get mine ;)" It found itself right in the trash before he moved to
hug goods wife from behind again. She moved his hands to gently feel her bulging belly. "How
did the interview go, darling?"
He pulled her closer. "Fine. I think I aced it. I'm glad we made that wish budget." His wife
giggled, remembering how excited they were to finally be able to afford all their bills AND save
up.
Johnny
"Now, Johnny... I hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into. Look. They've got at least two
dozen' rifles and half that in shot. You can't go off an' taken 'em alone. You know that." John
sighed. Grief hung on his shoulders like a wool cloak soaked in a winter storm. He ran a hand
through his hair, hoping the rock at the toe of his boot might shed some wisdom. "Damnit, Frank
I know but... but I... I can't just sit here an' do nothin'!" He looked up, tears in his eyes. That
killed the sheriff on the inside, because if there was anyone in this town that wouldn't be caught
tearing up it was Johnny. "Frank I've got to go. They raped my wife and hung my kid! You
don't... you just can't do that to man! I ain't got nothin' left no more." Hot as it was, there was
nothing but salt trails on his face, even with the shadow of his hat. John would care if it was
raining molten iron or if hell brought winter; he'd be riding to take revenge on the god forsaken
Bluetick Gang if it was the last thing he did. The sheriff knew it too and he didn't have a cent to
blame the poor man. But there wasn't much they could do with how well they holed up. All he
had was a winchester, his revolver and a useless deputy. How on God's earth were they going
to fix this?
1000 steps
When traveling the mountains it is customary to stop and give homage to the many piled stones
that mark the graves of those that didn't make the journey of the Thousand Steps. "Here lies
Elana, huntress, ambassador, mother. May she catch the Wild One in the worlds beyond." My
voice croaked and I laughed. I didn't realize I hadn't spoken in so long. I looked up, gaged the
time to be a bit past noon,"Perfect time for lunch, don't you think, Miss?" The sound my pack
made when it hit the ground was satisfying; it was heavy with a good trade and more than
satisfying to put down. I pulled out bread, broke off a bit for Elana as offering and a tallow
candle, too, which I lit. "May you find your mark." Meager prayer as it was, at least it was
something. I've seen enough to be a little more than superstitious. The bread was stale, though
still good. I wished it down with a bit of the mountain berry wine the locals made here. Elana got
a share as well. I figured the dead might fancy a bit of wine now and then. With my belly full and
spirits high, I sighed, all the weight of travel falling out of my shoulders and into the rock
beneath. I was finally able to take a moment and look out beyond the little nook I rested in.
Before me was a valley; Intural range on this side and the Pollak hills on the other. Nestled
between them was the most ideal spot you could imagine for a kingdom. A mountain's river,
likely the one that carved this range, ran through the middle, the Vitali. Nestled in the miles
between the hills and mountains was a prosperous, independent little nation. They had enough
space for fields, the river for water and trade, and protection on three sides. The wall to the
south, their weakest point, was about to be done given a year's time. Everything here was
blessed by the gods, they say, for no land is more bountiful. I was headed to the shrine atop the
mountain. The people in the valley say it's older than man and was here far longer than the first
settlers. I'm curious to study it's origins and perhaps gleam some truth out of it. "I must be on
my way, fair lady. I enjoyed your company. I'll be sure to stop again on my way down. Rest
well." With my pack up and ready, I set for the peaks.
Helpless
A heavy sigh, more of a sob than anything, fogged up the glass in front of her. Her hands and
face pressed up as hard as they could against the icy surface. Internally, she screamed, as loud
as her inner voice would allow. Her throat was raw and her voice had given out long ago. The
fog cleared and once again she had to look outside her transparent prison. For miles she could
see, in all directions (for the floor was glass as well), and for miles, in all directions, the city and
villages burned. Soldiers, armed with hard plate and shining silver swords, rampaged through
the valley that held the most peaceful and progressive sovereignty in the word. The woman's
heart could sink no further, and yet, as they approached the central structure of the province, it
fell further still. This building was a glorious construction; a great marble tower stretching far
above and wide as well. In it was at least three of every book around the world. The pride and
joy of her city, their emblem, their image... now burning. The terrible smoke and fires billowed
angrily from the windows on every floor. The deathly plume that rose above the city heralded
the destruction of a golden age. The queens hand bruised as she pounded at the walls, dying
more and more as each of her beautiful citizens did. There was nothing she could do. Her city
and people were lost and she forced to watch suspended above it all for refusing to sell them
into slavery. How could she? It is better they die than ever enter the Hell Pits, where their mind
and flesh are stripped away, replaced with vile orders and stinking, constricting leathers made
from their own skin. Better they die. Darkness came to the queen, for there was nothing left to
give. Her tears and voice and all her energy had died with her people, and so she conceded to
sleep as it overran her conciousness. Whatever lay ahead... it didn't matter anymore.
Safe in the woods
"The way the streams sing to me is always my favorite part of going to the woods," I said to the
millions of things around me. My back hurt from laying on the big, flat rock that I claimed since I
was five because I could never quite lay flat; there was always this upward bow in my back that
made uncomfortable surfaces even worse. But it was totally worth it. My island was perfect,
smack dab in the middle of a big stream. It was big and tall and the part that sloped up faced
upstream. It was sturdy. Defiant. My big old reliable, and wet, boulder. I couldn't tell you how
many days I've spent here, gently rocked to sleep by the stoney caress of the island and lulled
to sleep by the watery lullaby. When the fires came, it was the first place I went to. They never
went into the woods for some reason, even though they had the big guns on floaters and all
sorts of Firestarters. It was as if they were afraid. Oh well. Hopefully they'll be gone tomorrow.
It's been a week, I think. The days just kind of all seem the same anymore.
Moral dilemma
The woman, an aquaintence and no more, called out his name as he came at her from behind
her large oak desk. The windows behind them, looking over the busy little city below, gave away
no evidence thanks to the shadowy film on the outside. He quickly pulled out and spent himself
on her bare back, white, a million times over, splashed across smooth peachy flesh. The man
zipped himself up and sighed, shuddering as the wave of pleasure rippled across his body. The
woman was still bent over her desk, satisfied and exhausted, though dissapointed he wasted
himself on her ass. Lazarus looked stoic as ever as he left her office. He took the elevator three
floors down and made his way to another corner suite, this one looking over the park and river
that flanked this side of the building. A woman stood looking out at the scene, her arms gently
rubbing her belly as she daydreamed. She jumped a little as Lazarus hugged her from behind
and gently kissed her neck. "Ohhhhh..... everything is so sensative, now... quit that before I
make you take me here and now."He grinned and bit her, loving the way her body shivered
when he did. She turned to him, big gold eyes staring up at him; they were hungry. It had been
four months of no sex and she was dying. A soft and loving hand stroked her cheek and brought
her up to meet his lips. "You'll get it, don't worry. The doctor said it's dangerous now.
"I know," she pouted," but I want you now! Hmph!" The pretty little lady turned away and
returned to the window. Lazarus got a text, from the manager upstairs, saying "You earned
that promotion for sure, big boy ;) I'll see you next week. Tell the wife I said hello. I'm sure she'll
like the benefits.... so long as I get mine ;)" It found itself right in the trash before he moved to
hug goods wife from behind again. She moved his hands to gently feel her bulging belly. "How
did the interview go, darling?"
He pulled her closer. "Fine. I think I aced it. I'm glad we made that wish budget." His wife
giggled, remembering how excited they were to finally be able to afford all their bills AND save
up.
