Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 28
Challenge #13*: Write a story that involves an original fictional religion, a moral quandary, a language the protagonist can’t understand and a crisis of faith. The story must be either 555, 666, or 777 words in length.
“Thank you for coming, Father 73.”
The priest gave a dismissive wave of his nylon-gloved manipulator. “What sort of example would I set if I didn’t? ‘Render help to thy neighbour, except where such help would violate the first or second of my commandments.’ But also, I am curious to see what you have found.”
Surveyor 6359 lifted the tarpaulin from the object in the trench. Until it was understood and documented, the excavation could not continue and no more magtrack could be laid.
“A precursor relic,” she explained. “I think a container of some sort. We thought it best to send for someone to decipher the ancient script upon its surface before any attempt to move it.”
“This is wise.” Father 73 nodded. “The precursors set forth many trials and tests of faith: some of their devices will detonate rather than yield up their mysteries.” Continue reading
Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 3
Challenge #2: Write story including a scene in which a reconciliation occurs. It must also mention a year in which a historical peace treaty was signed and feature an unreliable narrator.
Abraham Van Helsing moved silently through the crypt, the stench of death all around him. The sanctuary of his nemesis lay ahead, illuminated by the yellow glow of the electric lantern affixed to the breast of his coat. Van Helsing carried a mallet of oak in his right hand and a stake of ash in his left, one held ready to strike the other. The coffin before him loomed closer, closer, as he prepared to tear open its lid and smite his foe.
With the point of his stake, he levered up the wood in one smooth motion and prepared to strike.
Yet the coffin was empty.
With unnatural speed, a shadow darted across the hall, yet protected by providence Van Helsing had the presence of mind to hold up his stake and mallet as a makeshift cross, and the creature halted its advance. Yet it was not yet defeated.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” laughed Count Dracula. “Your feeble wood means nothing to me, for…” Continue reading