January 15, 2016

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge [Darleen Click]

The inspiration:


A story,

It started with a whisper in the King’s ear. “Beware, your Highness, death arrives with dear familiarity.”

The King made a show of complete indifference to the M’lak, Oreel, a contemptuous flick of one bejeweled hand to dismiss the monk from court.

Yet he sought to find the threat, doubling the guard, recruiting spies, and sly testing of friend and family.

Was a door left unlocked, a cup of wine unguarded? The King demanded answers he was sure to distrust.

And when the headsman’s work was bloody enough, it finally claimed the King.

Oreel took the back road away, satisfied.


Now, your turn.

Posted by Darleen @ 12:30am

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Comments (8)

  1. A reluctant sun sat low in the ash-black sky, its dim orange light a pale shadow of the brightly glowing orb which once warmed these lands.

    It was the final harvest they said. As days grew darker, nights longer, the sun colder, the Guild was forced to close its doors. Once the Master issued the Final Proclamation, the Harvesters had lingered on in confused silence.

    Each of the 500 was given a double measure of wheat and a flask of oil; final payment for a lifetime of service. And their freedom.

    The one thing they didn’t need and couldn’t use.

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  3. Excavated from an archeological dig 14 thumpers southeast of Mos Espa, a photograph of a proto-Jawa during Tatooine’s final millennium as an agricultural planet, just before the desert finally conquered the last grain fields.

  4. “We play a lot of tennis here at the monastery . . .”

    That’s as far as I got.

  5. I knew I could not out-walk the storm. The gloom followed me, threatening to quench the sun itself, as I paced past the wheat stubbles. The stones pierced my thin sandals and I kept my head down so as not to lose my footing. I shivered in spite of my robe. I was tempted to ask God why He had forsaken me. He would not answer, He never did, but I knew in my heart that He was there behind the gloom. I tightened my robe and paced onward. I would not reach the monastery before the storm broke.

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