Friday Flash Fiction #3

The Lovers
"I love you." She smiled down at him where he lay. He closed his eyes and felt her fingers wander up and down his hand. "When will we be married?"
He laughed. " Be calm my love, can you not wait another month?"
To this she said nothing, expect sighed and let her fingers play with his hand.
"You know I would wait for all eternity for you," he said and she bent down and kissed him. The kiss tasted as honey and sugar. Her lips so sweet. He could kiss her all day long.
"What will our wedding be like?"
He gazed up on her and she blushed.
"There will be roses, laughter and smiles. Cake, family and you will be wearing the prettiest dress of them all."
"Even prettier than was your sister will be wearing?"
At this he laughed. "Even prettier than that."
She fell silent again and stared out at the fields below. He stared at the clouds above and felt a chill as more and more gathered. It would rain soon. He felt empty.
”Will your parents like me now?”
What would he say? Maybe with time. Maybe his mother would grow to like Sarhagh as she was absolutely wonderful. Loving. Sweet. Dedicated. Or maybe she would hate her always because she was a farmer’s daughter. And not even a rich farmer, but a farmer with 14 kids and a house falling to pieces. As for his father he would not forgive, nor forget.
“You are wonderful,” he simply answered and he felt her lips brush his. To hold her, to love her. He would give anything for that. He would give the world. To let it all fall into darkness just to have her in his arms.

“There you are!”
He watched as his brothers rode up the hill. “Damn you Charles”! they swore. “Mother is worried half-sick from worrying!”
The memory of Saragh faded. He could no longer feel her lap feel her fingers or her presence. They had scared it away.
“You should have left me,” he said and stood up. “Damn you both to hell!” He broke down and fell to his knees crying.” I just wanted to be alone, to think of her…” his voice broke and Edward kneeled down.
“She is gone, buried. Do not fall into the company of ghosts. Come back to us.”
“I can’t,” he whispered and felt the emptiness grow. “ I can’t”.

The End

Friday Flash Fiction #2

A new day
She woke up and heard the wind gathering strength outside. She could hear thundering hooves in the clouds above and she sighed. She looked to her left were her husband lay and she felt sick to her stomach. She hated him, she hated everything he died, said and wanted. And nights like this when she heard the thunder she felt a deep longing inside of her. The longing to be free of it all, to be happy. To be something else than she was now. And she knew that if she did not do it now, then she never would. Soon enough children would hinder her. Could she give that up?

Slowly she turned over and stood up. She took the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her. She tip toed to the door and opened it. She cringed as it made a sound, but he did not stir. So she left, no servants were out in the corridors and she knew of an easy way out. With a lantern she made it outside where the rain whipped her in the face, and she ran. She ran as if the Dark One himself were out after her. She knew someone would have seen the lantern or even her. But dared not to speak up, they all loved her, they all hated him. But someone would speak anyway, but before that she would have reached her destination. The cliff at the back of the keep. There the winds were strong, but soon the calmed, the rain died out, and the thunder stopped. The clouds opened and let light through.

She looked to the sky and called his name.
“I am ready, I am yours!” She screamed and he appeared from the clouds. Gently he touched her chin and smiled.
“I love you Annalis, but you know the price.”
She closed her eyes as fear took hold, but she cared not. She loved him, she loved the God of Thunder. But she also knew she could not enter his realm like this. She would have to die and before that had scared her more than loving him. But now, after this. She opened her eyes and smiled.
“I love you”, she said and jumped.
gripped tight

Friday Flash Fiction

I know I have not posted for ages and ages. I mostly hang on my other blog talking about books. And I have missed my flash fiction entries so here is one :)

Starting from the beginning

1.  The camp follower

War was dirty, but then life was dirty. Ananna knew it in body and soul. She was just a orphan who had taken the only road open to her. A camp follower. There were always brothels and wars. She picked wars, because it was a brutal life and she had nothing to lose in the end. Her dreams were all long gone, left in a ditch somewhere in Karydon. This was the life she lived, a dirty, hopeless life where she hoped one raid into the camp would kill her.

That all changed the day she saw him walking by. Blood all over him after the day’s fighting. He looked at her, not past her and she felt something stir deep down in her soul. All before a soldier dragged her away after throwing a copper at her. After that day she made it her business to know who he was and where he went. A mighty prince, a prince made for battle and bloodshed. Those hopes slowly came to life again. What if he saw her, wanted her? She could get a better life if she caught him. A life where she did not crawl on all fours begging for scraps.

Then came the night. She was cleaned up for once, in a stolen dress, looking almost young and fresh. He saw her and beckoned her to come. This was her chance. She did not look the part of a camp follower today, she was something else, something he could have. A prince would not want dirt, but he might want her. And so he did.

That day she did not go back to the rest of the whores. She just wandered around, trying not to be in the way. She knew she could make him want her again. But that evening the drums were silent and the men quiet. They carried him in and she knew that the prince of war was gone. He would not call on her again. In that moment what was left of her died. The small shred of hope was gone. She had dared to dream and she had fallen to the ground. No more.


Friday Flash Fiction

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

The Rage of  a Goddess
by Blodeuedd

She has been sleeping for a thousand years or more. Sleeping and dreaming. She was old, she was young, she slept a lot these days. In the days before she was alive with the creation. Together with her siblings they created the sky, the earth, the moon and the sun. Then Marek came up with humans and placed them here and there.  Alina was not happy as she had created animals and now those were hunted. So she created bigger ones that could hunt Men and everyone was happy. But to be Goddess was tiresome and she started sleeping. Now and then she woke up and looked upon creation. Sometimes she was forgotten and raged until she was remembered again. But this time was different. It seemed all her siblings were sleeping too and humankind had gone to war and The Old Ones were forgotten. Instead they prayed to a new God, a God that was not even real. She was angry, she was disappointed and she watched them slay each other while she sat by and laughed. But even this was no fun and she stepped down to earth for the first time in centuries.

The battle was fierce. Men fell left and right and blood flowed this day. The men were exhausted and about to give up when she came down. She looked upon them and grew as tall as a giant.

“How dare you all turn away from your true gods?!” She roared and the sky split upon as fire rained down upon them. “I am your Goddess Alina.”

Men fell down to their knees. Some knew who she was. The Huntress, they had heard stories, children’s stories told sometimes about times long by. But it was blasphemous to even think about calling the old ones gods..or?

Alina screamed in anger and mountaintops in the distance fell down. She raised her hands and the dead stood up.

“Go out and bring the children back to the true faith.” The Dead Men started walking and she looked down at those still alive.

“Remember this day. This is the Day when your false god died. If you anger me again,” she grew quiet and raised her hand again and the sky blackened. “Your sun will be back when you have returned to us.”

The Men cried and begged her to return the sun. But Alina was tired. She wanted to sleep once more. And so she did.

The end. her voice is not that good, but it has to work

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Flash Fiction Friday

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

The King's daughters

In a land far far away there lived a king and a queen. They had three beautiful daughters but they were spoiled and the king knew that no prince would marry his three beautiful daughters. One day he called for a feast and invited princes from wide and far. They all came, they danced with his daughters and then they left. He had promised gold and land but none would have his daughters fair. So he held an open court and poor men, and rich men, all came to call. But they all left, rich as poor. The king grew angry and threw his daughters out and told them not to return if they did not bring a husband.
The first daughter did not make it far. She stood outside the palace gates and demanded this and that. All day and all night, all week, until she sat down and died.  The second daughter ended up in a village. Her feet hurt and she sat down. She demanded water to be fetched to her and then she screamed when no one did it at once. When a man finally took pity she threw the water away and told them to get it faster. After that no one helped her and when she finally went to fetch her own water she fell in and broke her pretty little neck.
The third princess knew that her sisters were dead and her road took her to a forest. There she stood in her pretty gown. She was cold and miserable and cried.
“Why are you crying fair one?”
The princess looked up and a saw a funny little man. A tiny old man and she thought about demanding help but then she bit her pretty little tongue.
“Please help me?” She asked and the man took pity. He gave her food and water. But he demanded that she cleaned his house in return and again she bit her pretty little tongue and did as she was told. This went on for a month and she grew accustomed to helping and thanking. But she also knew that she did not want to take this funny little man home. She did not want to marry him and she knew not what to do.
One day the man found her crying again. She told him that she missed her home and that she could never go back. She told him that she needed a man, but also that she would not take one home just to live as a princess again. The little man wiped her tears and decided her lesson was learnt. He showed her his true form and he was as fair as she. A rich prince who had fallen for her beauty, but not her temper. But the princess shook her pretty little head.
“You are fair of heart and I care for you, but just because you are fair of face does not mean I love you.” So the pretty princess stood up and walked away.


I had planned to make it traditional and maker her marry him when he changed form, but I thought why? She learnt to stand on her own two feet. When she wants a man, she will fall in love, hopefully

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has wine

Flash Fiction Friday

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

A Handmaiden's tale
by Blodeuedd

To be a handmaiden to the Gods was not an easy task, but then Leigha had not presumed it would be. She put up with their antics and their foolish games. They thought they were everything and more, but then they were. Who was she to think they weren’t? But that was not why she was there, to be their servant. She had a goal, a mission, a longing that made her body hurt. A longing that came from once seeing one of the old ones, they ones who walked the earth before. The ones not talked about. The ones cast aside when a new generation of Gods took power and cast down the former masters of the universe. But she had seen one, in a temple hidden away in the mountains, a shrine that had made it through time, war and destruction. And that had brought her here. To serve the 12 Gods of Anthemen, with her body and soul.

The time had come. She took up the sword and shield of the God of War and got the work. It had taken her 12 years to find a trace of glimmer and now she stood here. At the Gates of Underworld, ready to free the man who had plagued her dreams for so many nights. The Gods were busy with solstice and she had free passage after all, almost everywhere.

“I am coming”, she whispered and the doors shook before her mighty sword. It felt like it was trying to rip her arm of. She screamed in pain as her body felt like it was dying inside. But the Gates that should not be opened was and she saw him. He was not as she had imagined him, he was not a man, he was a beast and she stood speechless before him as he roared and gazed upon her. She though she saw a smile and smiled too. Perhaps he would turn into the man she had imagined. The fantasy man she had fallen in love with so long ago, the God who would carry her away, make her immortal and who would give her all those things she wanted.

But The Great Serpent of Tucocholapain did not even see the puny ant before him as he broke through the door, followed by his siblings, all crying for blood. The destruction of an age was before them.


Done. Oh foolish woman, do not play with gods

puddle jumper

Flash Fiction Friday

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

To save a princess
by Blodeuedd

It was the age old tale. A beautiful princess locked away in a castle far far away. A mighty dragon guarding said castle and letting no one pass. Sure princes came now and then, trying to free the princess but they never got far. Not until one day a prince heard of the tale and saw a painting of the princess, how she looked 10 years ago, on her 16th birthday. Beautiful and radiant. A true queen in the making. But this prince was smarter and he knew that if he went there alone then he would rest in a dragon’s belly soon enough. Instead he gathered every soldier he could and enchanted them with words of treasures and riches. And there they went, marching over hills, through valleys, up the mountains until they came to a tower, high up on a peak and with a dragon soaring in the sky.

The battle was fierce. The dragon roared and men fell from the bridge to their death. Some jumped when they were engulfed in flames and their screams haunted the rest. But they fight on and brave young Prince Michel led his men to victory. The dragon was losing ground, a wing hanging limp and the body full of arrows. A spear in the other wing finally brought it down and it crashed into an empty courtyard. They all knew that they now had to get close to slay the beast and they managed to bring down the gate and rushed in. There among rubble and few skeletons of other princes a young woman sat, drenched in blood, holding a young man in her arms. She was crying and lamenting to the gods. The dragon was nowhere in sight, had he fallen through the roof? Michel sent soldiers to find out and approached the woman and saw her beauty. It could be no other than Princess Sarhah. Though the tears she was shedding over some unknown man did not exactly fill him with happiness. But oh well, the man was clearly dead anyway.

“Where did the dragon fall, princess? We will slay it”.

She looked up with tears in her eyes and let go of the man. She staggered towards him and he knew she must be in shock.

“Slay him?” she whispered and he took off his helmet and gave her his best smile.”Aye, I will slay him.”

More he did not say. See this was not a tale of a scared princess, locked away in a tower. This was a tale about an abused princess, fleeing her father, meeting a man, falling in love, and running away to his castle far far away. He guarded her always, with his body, and his heart. Their love knew now boundaries. Thus young Michel’s story ended with a dagger in his heart as he was killed by the princess he was sent to save. And she fled, but not after calling forth her children who was young, but as 5 dragons they rose and killed and ate, until their bellies were full with flesh, and revenge.

I like it, even if it turned sad, but hahaha


(no subject)

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

Lovers by Blodeuedd

As a Royal Princess of Illyria Oleana knew her duties. Be pretty, be nice and marry well. But mostly marry the one her parents told her too. This she did not mind as she had been betrothed since childhood to a prince from a neighboring prince. She had loved him always. He had given her her first kiss and told her that she was more beautiful than the Goddess herself. He was all she thought about and she could not wait for their wedding day, which was a year away. So when Prince Alric told her about his plan she jumped at the chance. Sure she knew it was foolish to meet him without a chaperone, but she loved him, and they were to be married. Also, she had these longings in her body that could not be stilled.

With the help of a two maids Oleana was given servant clothes and helped out of the palace. The rest she knew herself and she hurried as quickly as her legs could take her. Her heart was in her throat and she was shivering from anticipation. Then there he was, waiting for her by the little pond, he smiled and gathered her in his arm. She melted into them and he kissed her fears away. He coaxed her toward the water and after having dipped her toe she nodded and followed him. He kissed her gently as he worked the clothes off her. He whispered promises in her ear and how he would make it even better come their wedding day. She shivered again, this time from his hand brushing past her breast, and she wanted to be his every way possible.

Oleana remembered their first night together with a smile on her lips, the second night made her blush. She looked up and saw him enter the Hall together with his parents. But why did they all look so upset? The words barely reached her as she stared. What? Now her parents looked at her.

“But I was with Alric!” She shouted and her father groaned.

“He was been away in a diplomatic mission for 3 months,” he said and slapped her across the face. “How dare you betray your family like this!?”

She did not see much behind a veil of hair and the tears ran down her cheeks. She searched for Alric and saw the smirk in his face, and then the look he gave her sister..her sister?! She was ruined and he, she twisted her hands. He would not get away with this. That she swore as guards took her away.


Eh, I was not that inspired 

puddle jumper

Flash Fiction Friday

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

A prayer to War
by Blodeuedd

The bell had struck, the time was near. Calen looked up at the shrine and prayed for success. The temple was silent; none came to worship at the altar of War in times of peace. Something he had never understood. War was constant, strife was never-ending, so who not to worship then? They could play peace all they wanted but people coveted what neighbors had. They argued over silly things and had affairs with the wives. Wives who in silence despised their husbands over mistresses and plotted silly revenges. A never-ending circle starting from children and it played out until you died.
He stood up and bowed before the statue.
“Let me sword be swift,” he murmured and took it out and placed it on the altar. The light shimmed on his blade and he dripped a few drops of blood from his finger on it. He waited and took it up. “Thank you glorious Lord,” he said and backed out from the temple. One did not turn ones back on War.
Outside the sun shone and a few kids ran past as he came out. They stared at him for a moment and he knew he was quite the sight. A priest has painted his naked chest with red symbols, but this was a big city and stranger things could be found. So he took his horse and rode home. A quiet little place with a smithy next to it where he worked all day long. An honest trade. He went in and mourned for a moment the loss of sound, the loss of little Amie. But he did not linger on those thoughts and went to wash of the red paint. After a while he heard footsteps and knew Ksenia was back.
The scent of cabbagesoup reached him as he came downstairs. Ksenia stood over the fireplace and he stared at her for a while and smiled. She was as bonny as the day they first met.
“Dinner is soon ready,” she said and put in a few spices.
“I know,” he answered and hugged her close. She smelled of hay.
As she dropped to the floor with his sword in her back and wondered where everything had gone wrong. Had he not been a good faithful husband? He shook his head and left her in her pile of blood. No one would blame him. Women were a step above animals after all.

Eh, not that good

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Flash Fiction Friday

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge.  Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to  participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

Valeria's Hope
By Blodeuedd

War changed everything, but that was nothing new. War killed and destroyed and the latest country to experience this had been Valeria. The once proud Valeria where magicians came to study and where architects made wondrous things in Valeria’s capital city of Ankerrad. But war had reached even this country as the conquering Empire had pushed forward. In an epic struggle to save the capital they had lost it all. Magic had exploded, the sea had swept through the city and it had fallen into the earth. Not much was left now. Towers stood here and there, forgotten remnants of a once glorious city. Magic still polluted the air and no one ventured one.

Except for Alliandra.

A year had gone by since the fall and she had been back several times. Diving for treasures and building up quite the little nest for herself. The magic did not bother her. At first it had almost smothered here but now it was an old friend and slowly it had seeped into her veins until she could control it. She was a thief, and damn proud of it. Of course before the war she had been a whore but that was then, and this was now.

It was like any other morning. The sun was hiding behind a fog made of magic. The sea was calm and she was sitting on top of a palace looking for where to go next. But this morning was the day everything changed. The morning when she met a once spoiled prince of a deposed royal family. The day she joined a struggle that was not hers

She did not see anything at first, but she heard it. A fight and it was coming close to her. She did not know who was more surprised, she, the prince or the ones trying to kill him. But she soon got her wits back because she realized that she would not keep her alive and she cursed them and jumped into the fight. The prince said nothing but saw she was helping him and let her be. This was Alliandra’s city after all and she knew it. Therefore she knew how to kill, and kill she did.


Hm, yes I have to end this here cos it is obvious I am not writing a short story any more. For some reason I think I could go on and on. They would meet up with others, they would fall in love and they would save the kingdom.

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