By the time morning came, Maxine found herself yet again traveling across strange lands but at least she felt more comfortable with her company. Kevin, the young man from Michigan, had brought her a savory herbed vegetable hand pie and a revitalizing drink made from the nectar from a flower of which she couldn’t remember the name. Captain Gray Wing also seemed to be a little more friendly than she had first expected as he started to tell her more about the sword she carried.
Maxine had been to many meetings in her life–staff meetings, Zoom meetings, impromptu meetings, annual review meetings–but this was her first time attending a meeting in the Hall of Kablooey. Well, at least Maxine thought it was the Hall of Kablooey but it was actually the Hall of Kabluii. How was she supposed to know how it was spelled?
There was no sunset that evening and the gray sky just gradually became black. There was no moon and all the stars were hiding behind their blanket of cloud cover. Maxine had been hoping for at least a glimpse of the moon so she could see a resemblance between this world and hers but it seemed that her fate was dragging her along on blind faith alone.
Sira watched a gray mockingbird bob its tail up and down on the wooden fence and wondered about how the birds could tell each other apart. Was it smell? A slight differentiation in their black and white tail feathers? Maybe the way they sounded? As she studied the bird, Rhetta, their black mare, snorted and the bird flew away, its quick wings a blur as it pushed itself up across a gentle breeze.
This story was written for Day 8 of the Flash Fiction February Challenge. The prompt today is to write a story in one sentence. Their eyes meet for the first time after the darkness fades, the invisible chains of his cursed mind falling away, and she sees her own face reflecting back at her; onlyContinue reading “The Meeting (A One-Sentence Story)”
Gaden hadn’t seen the light of day in a week. He hadn’t seen his family in even longer. Months had gone by since he had joined the exhibition to find a passage through the complex cave system of the Tirdanthe Mountains. He never wanted to go underground again.
The cold air was wet with the expected smell of damp earth. It was the whiffs of putrid decay that unsettled him.
It started when she was five. She would walk through the alleys and streets and pick out the shiniest pebbles she could find. Each stone had caught her eye because it had a sheen or glimmer of something unique–maybe a streak of rosy pink or a shimmer of gold flakes.
Each was pocketed away to be carefully cataloged and stored on a shelf in her room. Her mother wanted her to take them outside.
“Let’s move it to the right just a bit more. If we push it all the way to the wall, the trap door will be fully covered. No one will ever know it’s there.”
I felt calloused hands lift me up, straining against the weight, and then all four of my legs landed firmly once more on the stone floor. Only the leg that rested on the loose stone felt a little wobbly.
And there I sat, in the kitchens of the Redstone Inn, bearing a secret I wasn’t able to share.