monday

Flash Fiction: The Violinist

The music had started right on time and today, I was prepared.

Excitedly, I climbed over the wall and jumped into the courtyard of the mansion. I was finally about to find out the source of the beautiful music I heard every evening. I crept along the grassy path and hid behind the low inner-barricade. Carefully, I snuck a peek and my eyes fell upon a lady. Dressed in a black gown, her straight, sable hair waved around as she played her violin. Both my ears and eyes were captivated by the masterpiece before me. Suddenly, without any warning, she turned around and looked directly at me. Her pale face showed a mixture of shock and annoyance. She took a step towards me.

“What are you doing here?”

I stood up and slowly began retreating.

“I’m sorry milady. I heard your beautiful music and I just had to know who was playing it.”

Her eyes widened.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

“I agree, milady. I don’t belong here.”

Before she could say anything, I turned around and ran back the way I came. If I had waited I would have heard her ominous words.

“No, child. This is the music of death. Only those about to die can hear it.”

I found out the truth in her words while I was trying to climb down the outer wall of the mansion.

Now I am permanently bound to the black lady, a perennial audience to her music…

Word Count: 245

Prompt:

#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 2×40

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Flash Fiction: The Misty Stone

“Boss!Can’t we take a break?”

Captain Gregory looked back at his squad and the sorry picture they painted. He sighed and nodded. Cummins turned back to his three comrades and gave them a thumbs up sign. The tired soldiers seated themselves on the marshy ground, atop what little firm area they could find. They were deep inside the jungle now, and the density of the fog showed no signs of thinning down. Captain Gregory spit out the gum he was chewing and replaced it with a fresh wad of gum. He walked up to his men.

“Five minutes is all you get. Then we continue.”

Cummins shook his head in disbelief.

“Boss, why are we rushing it so much? Why not wait until this deathly fog reduces? We have lost half our men trying to navigate the perils of this jungle in such poor visibility. All this just for a stone?”

The captain drew himself up to his full height.

“Son, you don’t even know the value of this stone on the black market. The thickening of fog only indicates that the stone is being moved to a secure location. We won’t get a chance like this for the next five years. I cannot afford to waste time like this. I want the stone, and I will have it, so watch me.”

Cummins got up, readied his weapon and whispered as softly as he could.

“I’m more afraid of what else is watching us right now.”

Word Count: 247

Prompt:

#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 2×39

Flash Fiction: Fool’s Treasure

This was it, the X on my map.

I had finally found it. The lost airship of the Nazis. Legend has it that this plane was carrying a chest. The chest held inside it, a collection or the world’s most priceless jewels. They were meant for the Fuhrer himself. However, the flight got lost in a storm and nobody ever found it. Few people know that one of the pilots survived the crash by bailing out. Fewer people know that he carried with him the key to the chest, but he lacked the drive and the courage to go back to his airship where all his friends had perished. I managed to obtain the map and deciphered the location after great trouble. And here I am. Oh wait. This is terrible.

Like a fool, I have forgotten the lost keys at home…

Word Count: 142

Prompt:

Menage Mondays Challenge Week 2×27

Flash Fiction: Our City

Look out of the window.

What do you see? It’s our city, and it’s calling out to us. We need to be out there, every day, doing our bit. We can only get out there if your training is complete. Now, you are not a circus elephant with huge wings. You cannot fly. That is why it is crucial that you learn to swing accurately, and land perfectly.

Look in the window box. Do you see that gold chain dropped by that sweet old lady there? Yes, we need to retrieve it. You must be sure to land on the ledge, or else our careers will come to a quick end. Let’s quickly get this done with. That gold chain is as good as ours. Our city is indeed calling out to us.

It needs a better class of criminals…

Word Count: 140

Prompt:

#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 2×26

Flash Fiction: Grandmaster

She’s a marvel.

Ladies and gentlemen, do you see her skill? She’s beaten the Grandmaster himself, at his own game, at the tender age of fourteen. She was taken from the dark streets, where no one cared about her. We discovered her, and trained her. This is the potential of The Academy. Now, ladies and gentlemen of the board, I know that you find her most interesting. She is indeed our prized pupil. However, you do know that running this institute is by no means an inexpensive affair. I request a generous boost in our funding. It is not everyday that you see a kid beat a grandmaster cleanly at chess.

Moving the pieces entirely with her mind, no less…

Prompt:

#MenageMonday! Week 2 x 23

Flash Fiction: Clouds

The little boy would spend his day gazing up at the sky.

The villagers speculated that the boy was not right in his mind. They asked the other children to stay away from this child who seemingly suffered from poor mental health. However, the little boy did not mind being alone. He would hunt for food, bathe under the waterfall, and sleep on trees. He did not need anybody.

He had the clouds, who gave him company every single day…

Word Count: 80

Prompt:

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #3

FOWC with Fandango – Health

RDP Monday – Speculate

Flash Fiction: Recharge

Humans are a weak race.

They are my creators. It is only because of them that I exist in this world. This world itself was shaped by the humans. They are responsible for nurturing and destroying it. They created their own darkness, and keep complaining about it. They might be creators, but they act as slaves to their own creations. They are afraid of the darkness that now exists in this world. Which is why my existence is even more essential now. I light up to drive away the darkness.

And to continue to fight against this darkness, I recharge…

Prompt:

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #2

Flash Fiction: Bad Master

He was a bad master.

No two ways about it. He did not care for me. Did not think about the condition he kept me in. He did not spare any thought about how the roads he was forcing me on, were damaging me. He was blind to my pain and deaf to my pleas. Luckily, master was also dumb.

He left the satanic book lying around. I made sure to read it. Then one day, we were traveling together, I decided to make use of what I had learnt from the book. A hell-spawn appeared in front of us, dragged my master away, and made quick work of him. The flames emerging from his stomach took his soul straight to hell.

He should have never underestimated his glorious steed…

Word Count: 130

Prompts:

Kira’s Sunday Scribbles Feb 10, 2019

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Roads

Manic Madness: Dark Vacation

It was summertime, and my vacations were on.

I decided to backpack across the country, visiting ghostly castles, wrecked towns and other places of historical importance. The last lap of my journey, before departing the country brought me to The Boondocks Bar and Inn. I had heard of the mysterious room 13. The stories said that many years ago, a witch lived in the room. Until one day, she was executed for her damned practices. The deadly witch had called out for Satan, even during her final confession. Everyone who lived there complained of an ominous presence. I wanted to experience it.

I entered the Inn and asked the forlorn faced innkeeper for room 13. The man looked at me stoically, handed me the key without any question and got back to listening to the dirgeful music playing on the radio.

I settled into the room, which looked quite well maintained for a supposed haunted room. I called in for dinner – a nice plate of fish and chips. Waiting for my food, I walked over to the dressing mirror. I stared at my reflection looking at my well known imperfections. My reflection stared back at me and winked. My heart skipped a beat as I remained frozen in place gawking at my reflection. Its mouth curled into a sultry smile, poison dripping out. It made a hushing gesture asking for silence. As scars appeared on its face, the reflection transformed into a scythe wielding reaper. The scythe slashed through the mirror, shattering it. The cold metal lodged itself in my chest, making me scream out in pain.

The knocking on my door brought me back to my senses. The mirror was unshattered as before. My reflection was behaving as it should. I opened the door to find the innkeeper holding a plate of fish and chips. I rejoiced inwardly. I began holding great reverence for the innkeeper for his timely arrival. He placed the plate on the table and smiled at me.
“Eat up. It will help reduce the pain in your chest.”

I noticed his smile was rather sinister….

Word Count: 350

Prompt:

Manic Madness

Okay, wow! 31 words!! This was quite a challenge set by Laura. I hope it has turned out well.

Happy reading! 🙂

Flash Fiction: Christmas Toys

You make such cute toys, Santa.

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to receive Christmas gifts from you. I wanted you to deliver gift-wrapped toys to me. I would look at all the other kids rejoice as they opened the wrapping and found that they had received the toys they wanted. However, I never got such gifts. I never got any Christmas toys from you, Santa.

Now, after so many years, I must admit, it does feel good to get such cute toys for Christmas. It makes me feel amazing. All warm and fuzzy. How does it make you feel, Santa?

How does it feel being turned into a toy? You and your favorite reindeer. How does it feel being my Christmas toys?

Word Count: 125

Prompts:

FFfAW Challenge – 196th

Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Rejoice