#flashfictionsaturday

Entry into the Fiction Writers Group’s Weekly Flash Fiction Contest for the week of 12/29/19, featuring characters from the Council of Sons.

By: Vivian St. Crow & Xaneria Ann

Genre(s): Fantasy, Romance

Word Count: 300 Words

Image Source: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/new-year-s-eve-fireworks-4652544/fbclid=IwAR0UG8pUU8Pw817XUgP8Mwpw9AsxeAPsHYdF5uumfaQ-hDc1vrSysNvDFTw

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ragnimar, eyes narrowed, observed as Isidore’s hands carefully bent and twisted slender metal rods, affixing artfully designed paper to form a lantern.

On its face, a series of characters scrawled in elegant Hana script.

Eager to imitate, Rag took up his drawing and metal construct. He jammed metal rods through the paper, ripping delicate parchment.

“Easy, easy,” Ise cautioned, sidling up next to him to assist. Rag loomed overhead, eyes locked on Ise and the art project.

The task more easily lent itself to his smaller hands. With a shred of red dipped into a milky liquid, he deftly repaired Rag’s lantern with a burst of color that matched the waiting candle and passion between them. Turning the lantern, Ise inspected it for further damage. As he paused at the crude drawing, a smile brightened his face.

Such characteristic scribbles had been crucial in the days before either had learned the other’s native tongue. They’d carved countless rough sketches into dirt and rock, discovering pieces of one another in the images.

“All done,” Ise announced, holding up the lantern and a crimson candle small enough to be pinched between Rag’s fingers.

Popping a golden candle into his own, Ise watched Rag from the corner of his eye, glancing hurriedly away when the Ryot lifted his gaze for further instruction.

Ise retrieved a slender, fragranced stick. Ragnimar watched him reach towards the wall sconce, lighting the little branch. It emitted a sweetness that crinkled Rag’s nose. Ise offered an apologetic smile, cupping a hand around the smoking incense. He touched the smoking tip to candle wicks. Twin flames sprang to life, lifting the lanterns adorned with their fondest memories.

Winner of the Fiction Writers Group’s Weekly Flash Fiction Contest for the week of 12/8/19!

By: Vivian St. Crow

Genre(s): Sci-Fi

Word Count: 288 Words

Image Source: https://pixabay.com/photos/city-urban-skyscrapers-building-182223/

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Hounjou struggled not to squirm at his assigned terminal within the Hive. The unnerving honeycomb pattern reminded him of the furred xenomorphs and their bug-eyes. Their stingers.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he forced himself to settle back into the chair. Designed to cradle the form of many species, the microfilaments adjusted to cushion his weight, generating the false impression of drifting on a cloud. A chill surged up his spine as hairs raised on the back of his neck in response.

A honeyed voice ordered him to roll up his sleeve and insert his arm into the injection chamber. He moistened his parched lips with his tongue as he obediently followed the command, hesitating as his arm entered into the cushioned bracelet, anticipating the impending sting. Warmth spread through his hand as a soft golden glow illuminated his skin. A single beep and the disappearance of the light indicated the machine had successfully located and scanned the microchip embedded in his wrist.

“Detective Honjou of Sector 72. Welcome to the Hive.

Authorization granted per order of the Upper Echelons. We will now access, retrieve, and document all memory of incident 62905. 

Please, acknowledge.”

He spoke his consent and confirmed his data on the screen that manifested before him, surprised at the confidence and surety in his tone. 

The invasion commenced. The first injection bit in, a numbing agent and muscle relaxant concocted to interact with his unique biochemical makeup to lull his body and mind into dream-like state. A thick infusion, their tainted nectar flooded his veins with microorganisms, granting their bulging eyes a window into his subconscious.