Ruined Safehaven

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt

A Bad Time to Remember the Past

I wasn't planning on putting this guys perspective up yet, but it seemed to fit for the prompt, so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Discriptions of medical procedures, violence, blood, burning skin, laceration, and dismemberment.

@wyked-ao3 (a bit more on the villain of my story. He now has a proper name! Albrecht)

Glossary:

(In case you are curious about any of the terms in the medical procedure)

Topical Benzocaine: a gel spread on skin to numb before injections.

Articaine: a type of numbing agent injected locally in tissue to numb an area.

Epinephrine: used in local anesthesia to increase the duration of numbness by constricting blood vessels in the area and preventing the local anesthesia from being absorbed by the blood stream as quickly.

Buccal: the gum tissue covering the outer side of teeth.

Palatal: tissue over the top of the mouth on the inner side of the teeth.

Maxila: upper jaw

Nerve block: an injection that targets higher on a nerve branch to numb more tissue at once.

Infiltrations: injections that target a specific area and numbs the nerves directly adjacent to the injection by targeting the approximate location.

Now, back to the story.

Topical benzocaine followed a minute after by 2 carpules of Articaine HCI 4% 1:100,000 epi. Infiltrations for the buccal and a nerve block for the palatal side of the right maxila. Within minutes he’d watched as the surgeon took out a scalpel and carefully cut gum tissue down to the bone and gently peeled it back as the patient lay, mouth open, not even flinching. Then the drill had come, and with a whir of mechanical power, the bone was carefully bored down to expose the gaping sinus.

Of all the things that Albrecht had been forced to observe in his mandatory job placement hours, this was the one that really stood out to him. It was fascinating what a little chemical compound could do to dull the senses. He’d even been able to hold a mundane conversation with the man about his line of work while the surgeon scurried off to attend some other matters.

Another wave of explosions rocked by him. Albrecht’s head screamed in pain as that long forgotten memory snapped back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged. With both armies cowering in the darkness, he should have been on the cusp of his victory, the whole world bathed in beautiful darkness by his machines. Yet here he stood, recalling the memories of a child, a fool who didn’t understand the meaning of his own destiny.

Looking about him in confusion Albrecht’s teeth gnashed at the husks of his elite soldiers, boiled in their own skin at the shine of an artificial sun. Ever calculating, he could already see that what remained of his force wouldn’t last long after such a devastating attack. Ten blasted years of preparation… all for something like this? The fangs under his mask ached as he fought for control of his raging mind. His careful planning should have seen him to the end, in the way that it always had.

The power coursing through his veins spiked as the pieces of his strength once gifted to his thralls all began to converge back into him in a wave of sickening pressure. The feeling blinded him, and for the first time in his long life, Major Albrecht lost his ever firm grip on reason. Head snapping towards the source of his misfortune, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Using his powers, the Major smoothly dropped into the shadows and quickly traveled in their protection until he came upon the small vehicle, still driving away at a speed far beyond its natural means. There were four, no five of them, as far as he could tell, but it made no difference. They would all be dead soon enough.

With an enraged roar, Albrecht materialized in the shadow of the car and dug his teeth into the little warlock at greatest fault for this downfall. The man yelped in pain and raised one hand to secure the hat on his head before using another to push Albrecht away so he could stop the bleeding. He had no intention of letting him live.

A glimmer of something shiny peaked out from underneath, but he had little time to dwell on it as a stake was driven almost into his heart. Whirling around on the would-be attacker, the Major sunk his claws deep into their forearm, tearing through it with a growl of surprise at the strangely wooden texture. He grinned in satisfaction as a sharp hiss of pain rang out from whatever the thing was. It still felt pain, so even if it wasn’t human, he could still break it.

Half drunk on this strange ecstasy, he almost missed the smell of steel. His mind suddenly flared with a sense of danger, and he pulled away as a shot rang out, hitting the side of his helmet and exposing part of his face to the blasted false sun.

Like a bucket of boiling water, the pain brought him back into focus, and Albrecht immediately retreated into the shadows, taking the limb he’d managed to sever with him. With his armor damaged even this much, he wasn’t fool enough to risk an end to his plans even with his spiked blood lust.

Note: The procedure mentioned at the beginning of the chapter is for a sinus lift to increase the bone level enough to place a dental implant.

Heyyy, I forgot to ask bc I got busy but what’s Absolute Zero and The King and His Fairy about? (Wip game) !

No problem! Thanks for the ask :)

Absolute Zero

The story takes place in a world governed by spirits. Once every 500 years two groups of spirits wage war to see who has control over the world for the next cycle, and who will be locked away in the spirit realm. To maintain pride and prevent unnecessary blood shed of spirits they use human vessels who combat in their place. After loosing for more than 3 consecutive cycles, the dark spirits devise a plan and use human servants to work towards creating perfect vessels for them. The cult that forms from that plan steals people and turns them into potential vessels. The main plot follows a failed vessel with a water attribute who finds himself under the thumb of a crazed spirit who was forced to replace one of the original light spirits. To prevent being sealed, the crazed spirit tasks him with finding the other vessels and protecting them so that the spirit is not sealed away.

I've started this story over 6 times now, but I'm never happy with how it flows, so unfortunately I don't have a snippet for it yet :(

The King and his Fairy

Summary: After an event called the awakening gives Warframes more sentience and autonomy they struggle to adapt to the new way of life and their interpersonal dynamics. Titania comes back from a mission and comes to Oberon for a bit of healing. Just a short little one shot story between Titania and Oberon from Warframe that takes place in a slightly altered world. (It's mostly finished I just need to edit it and get it posted but it's a bit sappy and i've been putting it off)

Thanks again for the ask, I love being able to talk about my stories. :)

Attack of the dead men 

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Note: Given the prompt, it didn’t feel right spin things into a story completely of my own, so I decided instead to summarize a story that has firmly embedded itself into the back of my mind. I became aware of this story because someone showed me the song ‘Attack of the Dead Men’ by SABATON. While gruesome in nature, it presented me with pestering question of how people can drive themselves past impossible limitations while unprepared in the face of death. 

Warnings!!!: Discussion of warfare including the deployment and descriptive effects of weaponized Chlorine/Bromine Gas. 

Chlorine and bromine. While still dangerous, these chemicals have proven to be significanly useful tools for disinfection among other things. The result of their combination in a gasious form though? A toxic cloud that can devistate both humans and the environment, corroding tools and nature with almost instantanous effect.  What then of the human body? How might it react with living cells?

 For the 800 men guarding the Osowiec Fortress in 1915 without the protection of gas masks, those effects were almost completely fatal. Of the entire garrison only 100 soldiers survived due to their distance from the gas batteries. As the gas gradually dissipated and reinforcements arrived, the burned and dying survivors crawled up from their trenches like the living dead to attack the charging enemy. While coughing up their own lungs even as their organs were slowly being desolved by the resulting hydrochloric acid formed from the moister in their lungs and the chlorine gas, they stumbled towards the attackers without hesitation. The sight of their horrific forms was enough to cause bedlam in their enemies ranks, and paired with a concentrated artillery strike form the reinforcements, the soldiers were able to temporarily secure the garrison in the face of overwhelming odds. The victory was short lived however as the reinforcements were later forced to retreat from the garrison at a later date. It is a haunting story from a haunting time that can leave one to ponder the limits that the human will can force a broken body to ignore. 

Bold the Facts tag

Thank you, @renasdoodles, for the tag!

This is for one of the stories that I am trying to pin down to paper, but it is proving quite elusive thus far... It leans more into absurdity and just makes me happy to talk about it. The problem is that it is a far cry from what I usually write, so that throws me off.

Anyway, this is for Owen the Medic as he is formally known.

~~~~~

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped/SA'd | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Kneed/Hit Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotized | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured | Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

~~~~~

I'm still working out the kinks of his design, but this is close to how he looks. (He's usually more happy looking, but I had trouble expressing that in the drawing...)

Tagging

@kuebiko-writing @flurrysahin @davycoquette + open tag

(No pressure with the tag! If you want to be removed, just let me know!)

Thanks you for the tag, @flashfictionfridayofficial

INTOLERABLE INACTION

How far can one tollerate injustice for the sake of advancement?

Bitter heat forced its way down Pearl’s throat, burning his lungs. Every muscle in his body ached to turn and do something, but his hooves remained planted firmly on the scorched stone. His tail flicked back and forth as bits of his fur began to singe, marring his pristine coat with numerous imperfections. Even that price wasn’t high enough to atone for his inaction. 

As he listened, wails of torment rang out over the sound of the crackling flames. They were merely mortals, their lives meaningless in the grand scheme of the world he lived in. Their suffering was a mercy compared to the life of mediocrity they would have faced. Still Pearl’s grip tightened around his staff. He could still recall the boundless fields, filled with lush flowers and children laughing as they ran down the uneven streets without a care in the world. That hadn’t been nothing. The cry of a baby echoed above his resolve, his ears flattening against his neck. The council had made it clear that they wouldn’t tolerate further insubordination from him, but Pearl hadn’t been all that interested in immortality anyway.

Dropping his branded spear, Pearl turned from his post and charged towards the burning village. Fire birds circled above, destroying every ounce of life that their burning eyes landed on. He needed to be faster, to make up for every moment of pain his inaction had caused. Rushing to the blackened river, Pearl planted his hooves deep in the soft stones.

Power coursed through his veins, bending the water to his will. They attacked without mercy, and he would swallow them whole. Great snakes of glistening water rose around him, swimming through the air as though they were traveling through the ocean’s depths. They hissed in anticipation, hungering for battle, awaiting his command. Swiping a claw across the night sky, Pearl ordered his constructs to feast on the burning fowl. 

Without hesitation, the snakes rushed to the village, biting down on their prey and extinguishing the fire in their souls. The swift formation led to unstable constructs, making Pearl’s skin burn as each of the snakes shattered. As their forms unraveled, torrents of water crashed against the burning buildings, enveloping the land in billowing clouds of steam. Now, they could run or rebuild. Either way, he wouldn’t let the council have their way here.

“What have you done!”

Pearl turned to face his former commander, one of the water serpents coiling around him protectively. 

“I have tried, brother, but I can not force my knee to bend in the face of tyranny, no matter how tempting the rewards.”

Happy Birthday

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial !

Couldn't resist writing a birthday song story with this prompt.

It's a little story from Hati's past. A very memorable birthday and very defining moment in his life.

Warnings: violence, tragedy, death, depictions of violence, trauma, survivors guilt.

He’d woken up from his nap to the sound of hushed excitement from the kitchen.

‘Mom?’

She’d turned to him bursting with excitement, presenting a cake just like the one he’d dreamed of, candles lit perfectly and everything.

‘I’m sorry if I woke you up, honey. I was just too excited to celebrate my little man’s birthday! I know it’s not the same with dad gone, but we can still have fun!’

She was sure they would, and that was enough for him. Would it taste as good as he’d dreamed? Haiti’s eyes sparkled in anticipation as his mother took a deep breath to sing.

“Happy Birthday to you…”

Within moments of the explosion, his mother stood over him. Her face was covered in blood, but her eyes were lucid, unlike the others. She could be saved? A smile flickered across her cracked lips as she knelt before him with a damaged paper package in her trembling hands.

‘I know we didn’t get to eat cake yet, but I wanted to give you your gift a bit early this year.’

He saw her smile and knew that he would make it through this somehow, his mother wouldn’t smile like that if there was no way out, he’d seen what it looked like when she gave up after all, and she was even taking the time to give him his birthday gift.

“Happy Birthday to you…”

’You got something extra special this year my sweet’

The forest green cap in her hands seemed to emirate a strange radiance that he couldn’t understand, but whatever it was, Hati was sure that it was special; no there was no doubt that this gift was extra special just like his mother had said.

‘As long as you wear it, the tech witches won’t ever be able to find you!’

She placed it firmly on his head and kissed his cheek warmly.

‘I love you Hati, never forget that.’

“Happy Birthday, my Baby…”

The sky burned as rays of weaponized light reigning down from above. Hati watched family and friends alike, burning under the scorching beams, but he stayed still as a statue, holding the cap to his head tightly. His face burned as tears rolled down his cheeks in silent lament. They never found him, like his mother had said, but he’d never stopped running just in case.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

Hati woke up in a panic while clutching the worn fabric of his cap until his fingers turned white and he couldn’t feel them anymore. Curling into a ball, he tried to make himself as small as he could. No one would find him then. His mothers voice still echoed through his ears as Hati cried himself to sleep like he’d done every year after escaping that hell.

Short Story: Green

The end of the world happened slowly; as most things do. The plants began to disappear—one by one becoming extinct—too gradually for the general public to take seriously. When they did notice, humanity shrugged it off as the natural cycle of things.

And then it was the animals. That was harder to ignore.

It was the pollinators first, of course. Without their help, much of the flora could not proliferate as they once had. The lack of sunlight, of fertile soil, of bees or butterflies or hummingbirds were the beginnings of the end. Grassy meadows became barren deserts and lush forests became wasteland littered with twigs and branches—the corpses of once-mighty trees. Green became a lost color.

There weren’t many humans left when Zoe found hope and began her journey. The last human interaction she had was years ago to a man dying of smoke sickness; a common story for the few still alive. The ever-smoking towers brought industry, jobs, prosperity for a while…before they brought illness and death.

Over time, the smog and ash the towers spewed blocked out the sun, displaced the air, and changed the color of the world. Those who inhaled too much of the toxic fumes died slow deaths. Many grew up breathing it, assured by charismatic politicians that it was not harmful. They didn’t want to see past the lies; humans were an optimistic species after all.

Zoe walked past one of the many ever-smoking towers—still spewing death into the air—and took a moment to gaze at the darkened sky. She wondered what the sun might have looked like; what it still might look like hiding behind that veil of black and gray. There were stories, of course, but she liked to imagine that the sun was green.

With one hand, she adjusted the breather that sat over her nose and mouth, clutching a small egg-shaped container in the other before continuing her stroll, stopping at at a flickering metal box that matched her in height. An oxygen vending machine.

She had stopped by every O vendor she had come across in her years-long journey. Air was something she could not afford to let run low. Her expedition was a long one and she didn’t even have a notion of when it would end. It was better to refill her breather as often as possible before there would be nothing left; when soon—she assumed—there would be a large stretch where there would be no more O vendors to provide breathable air. She didn’t know when or where, but she knew it was inevitable. There were only so many O vendors that could have been put up before the smoke sickness claimed too many lives to justify the expense and many were already running low on supply.

She inserted a plastic card into the machine and fresh air was pumped into her mask. She breathed it in appreciatively, taking in the slight chemical smell of the original container and wondered what air from plants smelled like as she crossed empty streets and passed more ever-smoking towers.

Her destination was far but she was almost there; or so she hoped. Just a little farther, she kept telling herself, repeating it every so often. Her personal mantra.

She held the little container close to her, afraid that she might lose it; that it might slip and tumble down somewhere she could never hope to reach; that it might wither before she got to the one place in the world the sun was said to touch. The Sunpatch she had been seeking since she had found the egg-shaped thing—her hope—that she carried with her.

She had walked for so long with no direction save for the little information she had managed to gather after so much research on the Sunpatch. Much of it were rumors that lead to dead ends, others were educated guesses when information was obviously incomplete. She hoped to the hidden sun that the one she followed now wasn’t another dead end. It was her last lead and she was so old and so tired.

Her elderly legs hurt and her feet were numb from so much walking but she soldiered on as always. Zoe was determined to get the little egg-shaped thing to the Sunpatch no matter the cost to herself.

Her journey was a lonely one; solitary but never by choice. Often she wished that she could have company; another of her kind. The egg was a good listener but not much for conversation. Had the world not ended, her conversations with egg would be seen as madness but there was no one now to judge her.

For years, she trudged through desert and dead forests and broken cities and rock fields. She searched every used-to-be settlement for survivors—but always found no one—and stopped by every defunct food store to stock up on liquid snack cakes, bottled water, and portable air cans. On rare occasions, she even found running water in the long-abandoned cities. In those, she had the luxury of a quick bath and change of clothes. This wasn’t one of those cities.

She chose a building that looked to be in good shape and tried the door. Locked. A quick glance around found her some rubble; pulled up concrete from a sidewalk.

The aging woman lifted the heavy fragment and hurled it at the window, shattering the glass in an explosive cacophony of clinking, clanging, and crashing. No one will care about a broken window. No one is here to care.

She swiped the opening with a balled up rag, sweeping away bits of broken glass before carefully climbing in; agile despite her age.

The space was lined with mostly-empty shelves that made little paths. Zoe noted these as she passed the counter with an old register caked with dust sitting on top of it. It must have been a corner store once.

She searched and found a few bottles of liquid snack cakes and water. No canned air, unfortunately. Whomever owned the business—or perhaps survivors that had fled the city in search of better homes away from the towers—had taken most of the supplies before they had gone.

Opening and attaching one of the little bottles of liquid snack to her breather via a short, thick straw, she sucked on the meal, reading the text on the bottle. She had read them a million times but the mind needed something to keep from going mad and with the world so empty there weren’t many options. “Now with 50% less fat and 100% more calories!” it claimed. What a load of ash.

Zoe rested well that night before awaking to bottles and cans strewn about the former shop. Wakefulness came slowly and she didn’t notice the peculiarity of the out-of-place things at first. It was after a few blinks that it registered. “No! No no no! Where is it?!”

Her heart skipped a beat and she went into a frenzy looking for the little egg-shaped container; missing from the rotten pillow where she had left it before falling into an exhausted slumber. She dug through her rucksack, searched every nook, every cranny, and under every store shelf, but found nothing but rubbish.

The floor was sticky from spilled snack cakes, their bottles chewed by the incisors of a small creature. She had no guesses as to what it could have been but it had left a trail of liquid-snack footprints to follow and so she got to tracking the thief.

The tracks lead her to the store’s backroom; dark without electricity to light the way. She squinted, backing up a bit to where there was light enough to see as she rummaged through her pack and pulled out a small metal flashlight. She shook it a few times, and then flicked the switch on its side. The beam of light flickered before holding steady.

She ventured into the dark room, sweeping the light beam from side to side in an effort to continue tracking the creature that pilfered her hope. The backroom was in worse wear than the store’s front. A thick blanket of dust and cobwebs covered just about every surface that wasn’t disturbed by a certain little thief. Zoe found the footprints again etched into the dust and followed them, taking care not to step on any of the impressions.

They lead her to stairs going down to a basement darker than the backroom. She gave her flashlight another shake before venturing the stairs—step by cautious step—holding the railing as she moved down. The old wood creaked under her weight and she feared that she would fall through, break her neck, and die in a dusty dark basement under an abandoned store in a long-forgotten city. For much too long, she tested every stair before proceeding.

Her feet found purchase on solid concrete ground fifteen minutes later. She swept light over the new room slowly, almost missing the bundled fur in the corner. There it is!

The rat turned when the light touched its black fur and hissed. Behind it was the egg-shaped container that Zoe had been looking for; a bit scratched up but otherwise fine.

She crouched down on creaky knees and attempted to reason with the animal, “Come on now, I need that.”

The rodent responded with another hiss, back fur prickling up.

Slowly as to not make any sudden movement, she retrieved a bottle of liquid snack cake from her bag. “How about a trade then?” She twisted the lid open.

The rodent watched her intently, the over-sweet smell of liquid cake entering its nostrils and masking every other scent in its tantalizing aroma. It wiggled its nose in satisfaction as it began to salivate.

“You like that don’t you?” Zoe cooed, removing the lid completely. She poured a small amount of the contents onto the floor in front of her, “Come on. I know you want it.”

The rat hesitated before cautiously approaching.

She poured more liquified food onto the floor, pooling it up for the little scoundrel.

Temptation and instinct overwhelmed the rodent and it scurried to the food. It lapped up the thick batter; greedy from hunger.

The human added to its meal, pouring a bit more for it before righting herself and walking around the rat to the egg. She bent down and retrieved her hope up off of the floor, giving it a quick inspection under her flashlight when she was standing again. “Well, you didn’t damage it too much…” she said to the hungry rodent, “I’ve got to go now, little rascal. Enjoy your meal.”

She carefully made her way around the sticky mess and the rat to the foot of the stairs and frowned at it, annoyed at having to climb back up. Fear began to well up in her at the thought of falling and so she took a moment to breathe, steeling her nerves for the ascent. I made it down all right; I can make it up again…

The rat squeaked then, interrupting an otherwise still scene. She turned her light on it as it ran in a circle once, twice, and then scurried to the shadows of the back wall. “Where are you going?”

The rat squeaked again as Zoe realized a bit late that this rodent is the first sign of life she had found in her travels in years. She had been too focused on retrieving her stolen hope that she had nearly missed the fact that this creature survived the smoke-sickness that was choking the life of nearly every living thing…and it wasn’t wearing a breather. Here?! No…we’re too close to towers…but it has to breathe somehow…

She touched the latch of her breather, tempted to remove it to see if perhaps the air was breathable here, but she thought better of it. If I die here, it’s over for real. There will be no hope left…Some animals had adapted to breathe less air and this rat was probably one of them. She couldn’t be fooled by it.

Instead, she followed the rat deeper into the dark; hand outstretched, shaking the flashlight every once in a while as if it would keep the battery going.

It wasn’t long before the rat lead her to a hole in the wall just big enough for Zoe to crawl into. The old woman sighed and considered turning around. The rat squeaked impatiently at her before scampering into the tunnel.

Against better judgement, she latched the flashlight to the shoulder strap of her pack, slipped the egg into one of its more secured pockets, and got on her hands and knees.

She crawled through the tunnel, surprised that it didn’t narrow or end so abruptly. Someone must’ve dug this before they left the city. Stinging pain throbbed in her old knees as she continued shuffling forward, following a used-to-be common pest through a tunnel under a convenience store.

The passage was longer than Zoe had ever expected an improvised excavation could be. She had to stop and take breaks, maneuvering herself into a more comfortable laying position every so often to rest. It lead deep into the earth before steadily slanting upwards; so gradual that Zoe hadn’t noticed until light shone through ahead of her.

Eager to escape the cramped walls, she quickened her crawl toward the light. She didn’t know how long she had been shuffling in the subterranean tunnel but she guessed from her backaches and bruised knees that it must have been a while.

She pulled herself from the hole, moving dirt and small rocks as she surfaced. The light was blinding after some time in underground darkness and her chest was starting to feel tight. She had enough air for at least another day! Surely she hadn’t been traversing underground for that long! But she was gasping for air, struggling to fill her lungs. Her breather was running low.

Panic starting to intrude on her psyche, Zoe desperately scanned her surroundings. Massive dirt and rock walls bordered her from the outside world. Stalactites hung from the earthen ceiling above, drops of water falling from their tips in rhythmic succession. She found herself in a vast cavern of sunken earth; nowhere near an O vendor.

All of this for nothing…because of my foolishness…because I followed a rat of all things!

As if in response to her distress, a whistling gust of wind—gray particles dancing within it—embraced Zoe in its cooling hug before racing up toward an opening in the ceiling, blowing out of it like a volcano and parting the endless gray-black clouds of the ever-smoking towers. It was from that opening that a beam of yellow light pointed to a single circular patch of yellow-green before dissipating a moment later.

Zoe’s eyes widened at the sight; brief but certain. She had been searching for so long and here it was; hidden under a city, under ever-smoking towers that blocked from view the few moments of sun that managed to touch earth periodically when upward wind broke black clouds. She stifled tears as she approached the Sunpatch.

Reverently, she held the egg-shaped container in both hands, dropping to her knees before the little patch of life. With shaking hands and burning lungs, she set the egg aside and began to dig, clawing the earth with bony fingers until she was satisfied with the divot she had made.

Dizziness was setting in as she lifted the egg and popped it in twain above the little hole, dropping a singular ball—smaller than her fist—into the exposed earth. The tightness in her chest was nearly unbearable by the time she buried the seed.

Her life’s mission finally complete, she smiled with satisfaction; with all the love and hope she could possibly give to the world. As the wind returned, quickly flying toward the opening in the ceiling, she laid her tired body down and faced the beam of sun as it came in for another few precious moments. Her air had run out and the world was closing in around her; replaced by an overwhelming serenity. The tension left her body, smile softening but never vanishing as she stared at the mound she had created and the brilliant streak of dusty yellow light that caressed it.

The sun wasn’t green but it was beautiful.

Originally published on renalawhead.com on July 22, 2024

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Who is your favorite side character in your wip Bloodmage? What's one thing that character hates?

Thanks for the question!

That's a tough one. I have mainly focused on developing my main cast. Of the side characters that I have done more work on, though, one comes to mind more than the others.

Alasdair the King's right hand.

He's a half elf who was chosen as the king of the Fairies Bodyguard. He is a skilled fighter and considered the most dangerous of all fairies in combat despite his heritage. Due to his mixed blood, he is far bulkier than traditional elves, giving him an edge in pure strength.

There is a council of criptids that govern their groups and hold annual meetings to coordinate grievances and trade deals. During a heated argument, the king of the fairies picked a fight with the Representative for the blood mages Luis. During the insuing fight, Luis ripped Aladair's wings off and destroyed his left arm.

Even with this handicap he is still considered the most fit to be the bodyguard of the King, a fact that Luis uses to taunt the proud race when he gets irritated by them during the meetings.

Aladair dislikes Luis for the shame that he brought on the fairies, but he respects the bloodmage's strength. He hates himself for failing to protect his king's honor and is actively training other warriors to take his place.

✨ What have we found...?

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Flash Fiction Friday is a fun writer event that’s meant to inspire, share and connect writings of all genres and writers of all ages. It’s designed to make people want to write, especially if they’re feeling blocked. Everyone and everything is welcome!

We always do our very best to keep the prompt’s genre open, entertaining, positive and encouraging.

Write between 100-1000 words. It can be any genre, in any text format and 18+ is fine by us, just please tag accordingly.

Use this Friday’s theme in your text. Any way you see fit.

Post on your tumblr blog and remember to tag us at @flashfictionfridayofficial​!! So we’ll see it, read it and reblog it!!

Deadline is 24 hours after the prompt has been issued (12 pm CET).

And then, next Friday, we’ll mention your work in a showcase post on our main blog before our next prompt drops.

Please post your entries as regular posts, not screenshots — or provide the text as a regular post as well. Let’s keep everything as accessible as possible!

We ask you to tag your works with any appropriate content warnings and let the reader know what they’ll find before they get the chance to read your work!

If you have a question, check out our FAQ page! If your question isn’t on there, don’t hesitate to ask!

You don’t need to ask for permission or need to get added to a list to join in. Just write, have fun and don’t forget to tag us!

We do not condone fiction, asks or comments that contain: direct hostility, unconstructive critique, LGBTQIA+ hate, slurs, racism and/or general no-no behaviors.

If you want to be closer to the epicenter, you can come chat on our open discord: https://discord.gg/rUWCE8a

✨ We also introduced our very own Wishing Well, a place for you to whisper your prompt suggestions into. And we’ll listen! Check everything about it out HERE.

✨All your amazing works from last week can be found HERE.

Go check them out and consider supporting your fellow FFF writers with some likes and reblogs!

✨ And now, the new prompt!

[#FFF 263 In The Meadows]

This prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous, thank you so much! What can we find lurking in the meadows? Perhaps it's somewhere that was and is no more? Are their flowers? Have they all but died? Is it a picnic? Or dandelions blowing in the wind? Whatever it is don't let it escape; write!

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The Collective <3

Happy Halloween, What would your OC's do if they saw an army of ghost approaching them on Halloween?

Thank you so much for the ask!

When faced with an army of ghosts, most of the main bloodmage squad would realize that there isn't much to be done against such creatures and retreat until Hati or Ma could come up with a counter measure.

The sole acception to this would be Ember. In a ghost army scenario, she would definitely have to get dragged away with the others while trying to see what it took to burn a ghost.