Tag Archives: flash fiction
This is a brief introduction to Kadri’s character from Kestrel. I’ve been doing a lot of work with her and her story lately, and it’s given be some perspective into the flaws of the story line. I love Kadri, she’s fabulous, though her ability to shut down emotionally unsettles even me. Enjoy her.
“I shot him. It wasn’t the most rational thing to do, but he was there, and I fired without batting an eye. I still don’t feel bad about it. In fact, I don’t feel anything. Adrian was a traitor; if I didn’t shoot him, someone else would have, and probably for reasons that didn’t benefit “The Cause.” They’d have shot him in cold blood, probably for money, drugs, or information. Not that I’m saying my principles were noble or anything. I’m just saying Adrian was the bad guy—at least he was in my story, and who are you if you aren’t the hero of your own story?
I’m getting a little off track. I shot Adrian once through the left eye as he held a knife to Talmai’s throat. I could have talked him down.
“They’re not ‘people,'” he said. I had heard that so many times it made my stomach churn. Not just because Talmai was an Ularian. I’m a clone. So was Adrian. As far as most humans are concerned, we’re not people either.
So I shot him. Talmai turned out okay, aside from a small cut where the knife had been pressed against his neck.
No one can tell me that we’re not ‘people,’ no matter what kind of ‘person’ we are. Human, Ularian, hyper-efficient enhanced human clone—people are people. But that notion is just the reason I’m here.
After all, if you’re not the hero of your own story, who the hell is?”
No featured blog this week, but I will let you all in on some nonsense.
The blogging tribe idea has gotten a very slow start. We’re all trying to hold onto our enthusiasm, I think. My work schedule has included far too many 10-our shifts for my liking, so it’s been hard to really kick things into high gear on my end. In all straight up honesty, I can’t wait to move back to MA. Firehouse is draining me of anything that brings me even the faintest bit of joy.
On the up side, I plan to be back in Massachusetts by March. I’m either taking up bartending or hairdressing, I haven’t decided which, but both look like some measure of fun, even if it’s only to find out I’m terrible at one or both. I need to keep writing, and that’s been a bit of an issue lately. I’ve been working at some flash fiction pieces that I’ll share soon, as well as some character creation. In another realm of things, I’m getting myself situated with making candles and beauty products. My new shop, The Midnight Magpie, will be open online hopefully within the month.
I know, I’ve got my hands in a lot of different pots right now, but I really need to find some measure of happiness in my life before I go completely insane.
On that note, expect a Flash Fiction piece on Wednesday, featuring a new character. In fact, the next two weeks will feature brand new characters! Yay!
Okay, enjoy your Monday.
An intensely rocky start back into LfBH, so I hope you’ll forgive me. A more action-packed piece will be up on Monday. Thanks to everyone who enjoys LfBH for your patience. <3 LfBH is nothing without you.
There was little time. The skies, even here, were a dismal gray, as if Blackford Hill was reaching out to offer its misery like a plague upon the people of the small village. Every time a guard entered the village, he brought with him a depressing silence that lasted for hours after he left. Phaedra knew that their presence was wearing thin on the residents here, and so, once they were healed enough to move about safely, she proposed they leave.
Felix was unhappy. He knew his father would be looking for him. He knew that this wasn’t over for him, and if Silas insisted on tagging along (which he knew he would), then things would be very dangerous for him, indeed. As far as the young Count was concerned, his life had been thrown away the moment he set the flame to that temple. The gallows were the place for him, but Silas had a chance at a new life.
Tully, on the other hand, was eager to be out of here; eager to be as far away from their prison hellhole as humanly possible. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be where it was safe, warm, and dry. She wanted Phae and a life of their own.
Standing at the mouth of the village, where the only broad road led in, the stonework ending at the edge of the populated area and melding into packed dirt, Phaedra shouldered a crude canvas bag with a single strap over her shoulder, and glanced to Tully.
“I’m ready…” Tully responded to the wordless request. “I don’t want to leave them behind, Phae, can’t they come with us?”
Phaedra sighed. “They’re a liability to us, just as we are to them. It’s safer for everyone if we split up. We need the best chance possible at not being picked up again.”
“I suppose that means we’re not going back to The Willow?”
“It’s fine, Phae… it’s fine. Let’s go, alright? We’re losing daylight.” Tully turned to face the road, just as Silas came bounding up behind them, a hand falling heavily on Phae’s shoulder, accompanied by a good-natured laugh.
“Thought you’d run off just like that, yeah? I don’t think so,” Silas laughed as Felix sauntered up beside him, and cast his eyes away.
“We didn’t want to make this any harder,” Phae explained, and gave a faint smile as she turned. For as skeptical as she had been of these two men during their first hours together, she had gained more respect and affection for them during their time here than she had expected. They were good friends, even Felix, the mouthy pain in the ass. It was because they were good friends that they deserved a fair chance; it would be selfish to hold them back by traveling with them.
Tully threw her arms around Felix and kissed his cheek. “If we ever go back home, I’ll find a way to let you know. You can come visit. You’d love the bakery, Felix.”
Felix’s cheeks flared a bit red and he smiled faintly. Friendship had never been something he had been good at, but with Tully, it was so easy. She a sweet person with good intentions and a love for just about everyone.
“I’ll come visit with you, I promise. At the bakery, or elsewhere, I’ll find you when things settle, Tully. Maybe Silas will be with me.” Another faint smile.
“Don’t look so grudging. He likes you. Let him stay. You need someone to support you, Felix. You can’t possibly let yourself be miserable forever. Let him enjoy your company, and for the love of the Gods, try to enjoy his, hm?”
Another dark blush from Felix and he laughed. “It makes me feel guilty.”
“You shouldn’t. Go. We’ll talk again soon. I promise you.” She shoved him lightly, and turned to take Phaedra’s hand, a slight wave behind her to signal their departure. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she inclined her head, as if doing so would keep them from falling.
“It’s for the best,” Phaedra stated yet again, giving her hand a little squeeze. “It’s safer for all of us if we split up. And our work will take us to places where they have no business being.”
Sniffling in finality, Tully brought her hand across her eyes and nodded. “I know. And Felix has business with his father. I just hope he comes out of it in one piece.”
Phae gave a grim nod, and kissed her beloved’s fingers. “We all will.”
Felix cast a glance to Silas, his eyes sliding over him head to toe, and he gave a very bare, helpless smile. If Silas were ever to change his mind, Felix knew that it would be now and he would be left alone. Silas was a good man, and he knew that he liked him, but how could the Count expect someone like Silas to suffer his upper-class woes?
“That was hard, yeah?” Silas drawled, drawing on his cigarette and tossing it aside.
“Smoking is disgusting…” Felix muttered and turned toward him, pulling his cap over his head and meandering alongside Silas.
“I know. So, what’s the plan, Count?”
Felix rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Go to my father. Kill him. Take what he doesn’t deserve and try like hell to do some sort of good with it, I expect. We need to do something about Blackford Hill.”
Silas slipped a hand discreetly into his and tugged him between two buildings, where he promptly stole his lips in a reassuring kiss. “Let’s do that, then.”
Felix swallowed hard and stared at him, before he dropped his eyes to their clasped hands. “Let’s,” he breathed with a faint nod. “Yes. Well, to my father’s then.”
With a single glance back to the departing women as he came out of the narrow alley, Felix drew a breath and pulled Silas down the road in the opposite direction.
Yesterday, I posted the writing prompt for Friday entitled Burnt Offerings. Since Inkwell meets every Friday night, I decided to toss it at the other Inkwellers. So, we wrote awhile, and this is what I came up with; unedited and unabridged.
The corners of the photo curled at the edges, the image bubbling and distorting the cherubic face pouting at the camera. The sepia tones burned black as the infant’s face was obscured, burnt black by the flames. Elizabet kicked a stray piece of wood at the fire, embers and ashes exploding upward and dying as they fell. She drew the back of her hand across her tear-streaked face, leaving tracks of soot over her cheeks. The photograph gone, she dropped a lace bonnet into the fire.
“What do you feel this will accomplish?” Avery’s voice jolted her back to some semblance of lucidity. “She was my child, too, Liz.”
Elizabeth whirled around, rising and turning in one fluid motion. Her eyes lit on Avery, leaning on her infant daughter’s open casket. Without a second’s hesitation, her hand flew, striking him full in the face.
It was the resounding crack more than the impact that stunned him, his cheek flowering a brilliant red. “You’ll be sent off if the guests see you like this,” he snapped. “You aren’t the only mother to mourn a child.” Avery, her husband and her love turned cold since the death of their child, left Elizabeth alone with the casket.
She sank to her knees with a sob and resumed dropping tiny Christening clothes into the fire, piece by piece.