The 5th entry in my Classics series visits a supernatural flash fiction piece that guided my actions a year and a half ago. It still applies today, stubborn that I am. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

This was not the office, nor was he napping under the cubicle desk. One moment he stood at the door of the vice president, ready to fire off his opinion for the incompetence he showed in the morning meeting, and the next moment, he stood in a foggy, alien place. Panic crept in when he saw a weathered old woman shuffle in with a ram’s head cane in hand. His heart leapt into his throat when she shifted her bloodshot eyes toward him.

“Who are you? What did I do to make you so angry?” he asked.

“You’re a fool, of course,” she sneered and waved his questions away like they were pests buzzing in her ear. “I sent you four rams. You chose to ignore three of them.”

“Rams?” he asked.

“Yes, my rams were sent out to you four days ago,” she pointed to a tapestry hanging on the wall in front of him. “Take a look through the threads and see the ram standing next to you now.”

He glanced at the tapestry, shaking his head in dismay. When he shifted his attention back to the old woman, in her place was a ram of smoldering fleece, and spike filled horns. He fell to his knees, his voice trembling. “What must I do to keep this ram away from me?”

The old woman smiled a broken tooth grin before smacking him with it against the head with her ram’s head cane. The man yelped like an abused dog, which made her shake her head in disgust. “You must stop being so hot headed and stubborn. Your arrogance and anger get you into situations you often can’t overcome.”

“You mean when I found the offer for the second job or the time I told everyone how to live based on a book I read?”

“Yes, you often let these things overwhelm you and lead you down a path you are lucky enough to bypass. This time around, you must remain calm and focused. You can’t let your emotions glaze over your ability to reason.”

“Please, wise woman,” he said through strangled sobs. “I’ll do anything!”

“Walk from the door and return to your desk. Breathe, see that your temper got the better of you.”

“Thank you, anything you wish, I will do.”

The old woman frowned, and thumped her cane against the man’s head once more. “If you really wanted to do anything I wished, you would’ve observed the signs before getting to this point.”

“I’m sorry. I will do better next time.”

“I won’t be around next time.” She snapped her fingers at the ram. “You’ll be on your own.”

The mist shifted. The man felt woozy and drifted off. His head snapped back, and he stared in wide-eyed terror at the vice president’s door. The old woman’s laughter echoed in his mind. He ran back to his cubicle, yelping at the imagined sound of a snorting ram behind him.

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The 4th entry in the Notae dot net classic reimagining, this dark modern microfiction piece came to me after some interesting ideas and some Swallow the Sun obsessing. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

The previous classic entries: Modern Microfiction: If I Die, Dark Modern Microfiction: Desert Revenge, and Dark Modern Microfiction: Emergency Exit

The couple held each other and looked up at the night sky, watching the starlight wink out one by one. The woman buried her head against the man’s head and sobbed. “The stars are dying.”

“They told us the universe would be saved. We had another way, and they decided to do this instead. No one knew they’d kill the stars,” the man replied.

“Please, make it stop…”

He leaned back, lifted her head, and kissed her lips for one last time. “We can’t stop it. The universe is ending, there’s nothing we can do. I love you.”

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The 3rd entry in my classic recap from the Notae dot net days, this time it is a dark modern microfiction about how not everyone is as they appear. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Previous Classic Entries: Modern Microfiction: If I Die, Dark Modern Microfiction: Desert Revenge, and Dark Modern Microfiction: Empty Skies

She smiled and stopped at the emergency exit door. She glanced over her shoulder and slipped her hand inside her pants pocket. She started to remove something when the hammer of a gun clicked behind her. Her head snapped around, and she took a step away from the quaking man holding the revolver. “Get down on the ground, now!”

She shook her head and smiled, revealing her sharpened, bone white teeth. The man screamed and opened fire at the creature in front of him, but she flung open the door and jumped through, tumbling down twenty flights of broken stairs.

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Another entry in my classic dark modern microfiction from 2010 explores the body that never dies to settle a love debt. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Previous Classic Entry: Modern Microfiction: If I Die, Dark Modern Microfiction: Emergency Exit, and Dark Modern Microfiction: Empty Skies

His tattered flesh continued to rip off his body, chunks dropping off his body like a grisly trail of breadcrumbs behind him. He stopped and looked behind him in dismay, but continued to press on with his search. He felt the heart-shaped pendant press against his breastbone, which sent vivid memories surging through his mind. He stopped again and tilted his head, hearing his dead wife’s words whisper in his mind like a coy lover.

You won’t stop until you avenge my death. You are my eternal love.

He lowered his head and continued on, his quest unending.

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This is a classic modern microfiction lost to time when I switched domain names. The original is not worthy, but this reimagined and edited version is much stronger. Look for more of these during the week. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Other Classic entries: Dark Modern Microfiction: Desert Revenge, Dark Modern Microfiction: Emergency Exit, and Dark Modern Microfiction: Empty Skies

His right hand moved from the vodka bottle to a pile of letters in front of him. He took the first letter and opened it with a heavy sigh.

If I should die, think only this about me. I’m not the best woman for you. I’m an abysmal lover. I tried; I wanted to be more, but my secret made it impossible. I wish I could tell you when I still lived. Please treat your future lovers with the same kindness you showed me. They deserve your adoration.

He brought the bottle to his lips and drank the pain away.

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The 10th entry in the Fantasy Flash Fiction Series The Dead Stones made me cringe when I wrote this piece. It shows you how attached I’ve become to this crazy blonde necromancer. As someone who created Elias, I feel like an ass for him. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

The group entered the city without any incident. They traveled through the quiet city to the first towering pillar bathing the crumbling neighborhood in an eerie green light. The men on horses rode past the stones and deeper into the city. The men on foot fanned out and checked the ruin buildings. They came back after inspecting the area and reported to Elias and the rousing Kirtenia that there are no survivors in the city.

“No survivors, what do you mean? We had at least one-hundred people here,” Elias asked.

“Sorry, milord,” The man reporting to Elias spat the word out of his mouth. “It seems the people we left here are no longer in the area.”

“Keep looking, we can’t lose more people. Someone must have left notes on what happened or what progress they made here.”

The man turned on his heel without saying another word, causing Elias to twitch in anger. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to Kirtenia. When he opened his eyes, he could still see the faint gray energy hovering over her like a dull halo. “Are you strong enough to do this?”

“I am,” Kirtenia nodded her head, though her downcast eyes told him otherwise. “What do you want me to find for you?”

“The scribes came close to uncovering large amounts of magical theory carved into that segment over there. They told me they found something about spells forbidden to the living, so this is where you’ll come in. Don’t overexert yourself, but tell me what you find.”

Kirtenia chewed on her lips and nodded, shifting her eyes back and forth for a moment. She leaned forward and opened the velvet bag, placing it on the ground with the opening pointed toward the giant stone. “Come on out, baby. Mommy needs you to find a safe place to play with your new friends.”

Mittens mewled inside the bag, causing the men within earshot to shudder and turn away from the scene. Elias felt his stomach lurch, but he kept his eyes on the stone with a smile on his face. I am so close. The research will unlock everything I ever needed to grow into—

You should watch what you ask for, Elias, his familiar chimed in his mind. The black cloud shifted and took a bone thin wolf next to him. You could have something special here, but you shouldn’t press so hard.

We are too close. We’ve lost good men for—

You’re a fool if you think this is about knowledge, the shifting dark wolf sat back on its haunches and pointed at the quaking Kirtenia standing next to the pulsating green stone. People like her are rare. She doesn’t have a heart, but if she did, it would be golden. I know those others you called associates were foisted upon you, not everyone is like that.

“Wait, she doesn’t have a heart…” Elias’ voice trailed off and his gloved forefinger tapped on his mouth. He felt the tingle from the missing nail on his hand, and his face twisted into a predatory smile. “Why didn’t I catch that before?”

Elias ran toward Kirtenia, who looked at the stone like it was ready to bite her. She kicked at an imaginary rock with her black boots and turned her head back to offer Elias a silent plea in her eyes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away with care, his face still retaining the knowing smirk on his face. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I know.”

“You know what, Master Elias? I’m a horrible reader. I never could read large amounts of—”

“I know what you are, my dear.”

“You…you do?”

“Indeed, I should have known all along that you were a lich.”

Kirtenia turned and glared at Elias; her lips pursed and her jaw tight. She glanced around at the men standing on guard, and then slapped him across the face. “How dare you insinuate—”

“If I paid attention to the signs when I saw them, I would have spared you the insult. You aren’t alive, you never were,” Elias replied.

“I’ll have you know—”

“You’ll have me know Mittens is more than a cat. Your obsession with the undead isn’t a hobby, and you aren’t just another lost girl looking for a hero. I saw your flesh change when you cast your spell. I didn’t mention it to anyone. I wasn’t sure what it meant. It took my familiar telling me about your lacking heartbeat to push me to this conclusion. How old are you, really?”

“I’m not undead, I am dead!” Kirtenia turned around and covered her face. Elias took a step away from her when the illusionary skin melted from her body. She moved her rotting fingers and looked at him with one empty eye socket. “There is something wrong with the veil, it can’t be crossed. No matter what any of us tried, we can’t move over to the other side. I died three years ago. When I heard my living friends mention you, and your exploits, I knew you had to be someone special. I only assumed you would be undead after seeing you live in this village. We’ve heard about your desire for this power hidden here. I thought it meant you are an ancient undead.

“Instead, I come to find out you are an uncultured bore who breaks a woman’s heart. You forced me to reveal my truth in the middle of a dead street like some two-bit whore. I wanted you to help me, but I find you were looking out for yourself all along.”

Elias’ arms dropped to his side, his jaw slack in awe. He took a step toward her. She snapped her rotting fingers, draping her body with the illusionary flesh again. She turned on her heels and ran away from him, her sobs echoing throughout the empty city.

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Again, no idea where this modern fantasy microfiction piece came from. I think lack of sleep and strange music is to blame. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Dark wings draped over his body, while claws dug into his chest. He looked down at the disappearing ground below him. Red washed over his vision. He screamed in agony. White hot waves rolled through his body. He shuddered.

A voice whispered in his ears, “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, please keep it up.” He turned his head to his raven haired, leathery winged beauty. “You know I love it when we have make-up sex.”

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Flashes of this fantasy flash fiction piece danced in my head over the last week. Now that I look at it, this could be a good premise for a longer story. Tell me what you think. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Magic never came natural to me, which is why it is entertaining that everyone relies on me to defend them. Of course, it had to be now that I couldn’t call on my ‘skill’ when we needed it the most. I lifted my hands and looked at both sides with contempt. The people waited for me to bring the heavens down on our enemies. I only wanted them to work. My vision shifted to my friends. They looked at me with concern on their faces, waiting for the reign of fire to start. “I can’t …”

“What do you mean, ‘You can’t?’ We’re counting on you Herald!” the man in bulky armor said.

“I can’t cast magic,” I replied.

“If he can’t cast magic, we are all dead,” the woman in black leathers said.

They huddled together, speaking in hushed whispers. I strained to eavesdrop, but I could only hear the thundering hooves of our enemy approaching. I shifted my attention to this charging horde, smelling the dirt whipping through the wind and hearing the horses snorting in derision.

Someone clapped behind me and blew two sharp whistles. I turned in time to see the elder wizard standing at the tower snap his fingers and scream loud, archaic words into the heavens. I didn’t have to turn around; I already knew the illusion dissipated behind me. My shoulders slumped in defeat. I walked to the stairs and down to meet my friends. They swarmed around me and patted me on the back, consoling me with their kind words of encouragement. The woman in black leathers gave me a hug and ruffled my hair before kissing me on the forehead. I couldn’t tell if the heat from my face came from the embarrassment or the affection.

The elder wizard stood outside the glowing circle of love and shook his head. I saw the frown add more wrinkles to his already heavily lined face. I failed my test again, and it baffled us both that I’m the prophesized savior of our kingdom.

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This inspirational poem is another piece that came to me while walking through a foggy morning. There is nothing more vitalizing than watching the misty light spill through tree limbs. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Inspirational Poem: Tree Sentinel

Stout tree bathed in mist
You are the sentinel we often forget
We plant you for a reason
To assist with our life
Yet, we often take you for granted

Stout tree caught between concrete
You grow, you spread, you exist
We cut your top off to prevent it
To assist with our life
Yet, we often kill you for it

Stout tree watching obnoxious metal dance
You withstand the greatest traffic
We drive by with little care
Since it assists with our lives
Yet, we often shower you with trash

Stout tree dying slow within
You gave your life for us
We mourn your loss
Since it creates a vacuum
Yet, we will replant in your honor

——–

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Not sure where this modern microfiction piece came from, but I have to admit it is giggle worthy. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Teeth chartered next to his ear, causing his lips to draw tight. His fists clenched, and his eyelid twitched in frustration. His head snapped around and shot a disapproving glare at the ghost figure standing behind him. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry,” the ghost rubbed its hands together and forced a smile. “No matter how warm it gets, it’s still far too cold when you’re dead.”

“You’re in Tempe, it’s at least eighty degrees today.”

“And on my side, it’s far colder than you’d expect.”

“For the last time, I’m not letting you possess me so you can get warmer.”

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