Day 4: “His wife was having tea with the King and he didn’t even know about it.”

Day 4: “His wife was having tea with the King and he didn’t even know about it.”

His wife was having tea with the King and he didn’t even know about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Helen?” James called through his bedchamber, expecting his wife to answer, after all, she had nothing planned for the day and he needed her to arrange his breakfast and clothing for the day.

No answer. Why would his wife not answer him? She should be here in his chamber to make sure that he had what he needed to begin his day before she went to work with the other wives.

What was he supposed to do? He got up, opening the curtains of his bed and expecting to see his wife there. She was gone, but his clothes, washbasin, razor, and breakfast for the day were neatly laid out.

“At least she has the sense to leave me this.”  There will be hell to pay for this later. Leaving me without telling me where she is going. Who does she think she is, some noblewoman, able to leave her husband and go off while leaving him with no one to help get ready for the long day of share-cropping?

He dipped his razor into the basin and began to shave, still muttering as she wondered where his wife could be today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helen smoothed the creases in her dress. It was the finest one she owned, having only three patches in it. Why the King had requested to have tea with her she knew not, but she still wished to make a good impression on the young leader, after all, he was the King.

She waited as the courtier called her name, announcing that she was there for morning tea with the King.

“Helen McIntery for you, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Sean, leave us.” The courtier bowed, ushering her into the room and left.

Helen entered, expecting an opulent room and was pleasantly surprised to see a normal living area, a small table with a tea set and some scone set upon it.

“Please sit.” The King was sitting on the opposite end of the table dressed in a simple shirt, not unlike the one she’d set out for her husband just hours ago.

“Y-Yes Your Highness.”

He laughed pleasantly. “None of that, just call me Edward.”

Helen sat, watching as the King poured her a cup of tea. She was struck by the odd nature of the scene.

“I-I couldn’t possibly. I mean you’re the King and I’m just a farmer’s wife.”

“Here, have some tea.” Helen took the tea, adding just a drop of honey, something she and James had never had much extra money for.

“May I ask why I was asked to have tea with the King?”

Edward smiled, taking a bite of one of the pastries. “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, your wife was headed up to the castle this morning.”

James looked up. “What?”

“Yeah, one of the King’s coaches came an took her up there.” John continued to pick carrots from the field as he spoke.

“Why would she be going up there?” James stopped, looking at his friend as he spoke.

“Dunno. Maybe the King heard about your wife’s cooking?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you mean to say that you have need of a cook and you want to hire me as you’ve heard I’m a good cook?” Helen felt her heart beating out of her chest. This was almost too good to be true. The king was offering to move her and her husband into the castle as his personal cook.

“Well, I would have to try your cooking. And of course, that is if your husband approves.”

Helen smiled. “If you would allow me to ask him, I could go now and be back to prepare you supper.”

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30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge Day 3

Day 11: “Winter was the only season we could be together”

Day 11: “Winter was the only season we could be together”

Winter was the only season we could be together. It wasn’t something crazy like Persephone and Hades, it was just practical. He was a professor and she was a rock star on tour except for winter.

“Jeff.” She walked through the small house, expecting him to be in the office, surprised when the lights were off. The house lacked the warmth it normally had this time of year. Usually there would be a candle on, the scent of apple pie or pumpkins wafting through the house as she dropped her bags and came home to their cosy abode.

Now there was silence and it smelled empty. Jeff wasn’t here. Lucy sighed. She knew it was getting harder for him to wait for her to be home in the winter, as it was getting harder for her to only be home in the winter.

She wanted to be home, to start a family, to stop being on tour all the time. But it was the only way to do it right now. If she could just keep this up for a year or two more, then she could have enough to ensure Jeff would never need to beg for funding for his research again during his career.

Lucy turned, walking back into the kitchen, intending to start cooking a dinner for herself. If Jeff wasn’t here, he’d be back on the campus working on his latest research project and he wouldn’t be home until 2 or 3 am.

She opened the fridge, looking for something to cook with.

“Damn it.”

There was nothing. Jeff was living like a bachelor again. Nothing in the fridge except some mustard, milk and ranch dressing. Couldn’t her husband ever eat something more than pizza while she was gone?

She didn’t want to call for takeout but a trip to the grocery store after flying from Copenhagen was out of the question was as well.

“Guess Chinese it is.”

Lucy picked up the phone, laying across her couch as she dialed the familiar number. The lock clicked and she paused.

“Hello Lucky Dragon Chinese-”

Jeff nudged the door open, his arms full with two heaping paper bags of groceries, a bouquet of flowers peaking out of the top of one of them.

“Oh. You’re home early.”

Lucy hung the phone up, letting it drop to the couch. “Jeff! I thought you were still at the University.”

Day 3: The language of flowers, pyjamas, a secret passageway

Day 3: The language of flowers, pyjamas, a secret passageway

Flowers. Her porch was covered with the flowers. It looked as though a flower store had exploded over the Victorian porch.

I guess this is what happens when you’re famous and your hero boyfriend dies. Hannah looked around her living room, catching her reflection in the mirror. Oversized pajamas, crazy hair, and dark circles under her eyes. She certainly didn’t want to be caught by an overzealous paparazzi looking like this.

It was odd, the flowers. No one knew her mom’s address.

“Hey mom?” Hannah called out through the house as she walked around. She stepped into the kitchen, expecting to see her mother.

Nothing. No, no wait. A note.

Hannah, 

Gone to the store. Who left the roses? They’re beautiful. 

– Mom 

“Guess that answers that.” Hannah crumbled the note, throwing it in the trash can as she peeled a banana.

It was odd, she thought, to be home. She hadn’t been back to Virginia in nearly five years, not since her TV show took off. And now she was back.

Because he was dead. Her boyfriend, her partner, the love of her life was dead. He’d died a hero. Raiding a terrorist cell with his SEAL unit.

This weekend was supposed to be their wedding, not Chris’ funeral.

———————————-

She stepped out of the bathroom, toweling her hair and feeling more like herself. Now, the flowers. She padded through the house, headed to the porch. Hannah stopped short when she noticed it.

The flowers were inside. On her mom’s coffee table.

“Hey honey. I heard you in the shower so I thought I’d bring the flowers in. There was a note with them.”

“Oh, thanks mom. I didn’t realize you were back. I’d almost thought that someone had somehow gotten in with more.”

Hannah picked up the note, her stomach wiggling as the handwriting looked somewhat familiar. It reminded her of Chris’ but that was impossible.

The language of flowers is beautiful. I know you miss Chris but I hope these will remind you of your first date with him. 

“The language of flowers? What does that mean? Why would I want to be reminded of our first date right now?” She put the note down and looked at the flowers. Purple and pink hyacinths, primrose and azaleas.

An unusual combination to be sure. What flowers did people usually send for grief? Wasn’t it usually lillies?

But her first date with Chris. They’d gone just down the road, to the Underground Railroad passages in Gettysburg.

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30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge Day 2 Day 4

Day 2: “Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read words in it.” 

Day 2: “Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read words in it.” 

Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read words in it. In this building, it wasn’t unusual to have smoke hanging in the rafters. The stone hearth that heated the building had been around since the dark days. The words however, struck her.

The grimoire holds the key. 

The grimoire? This is an occult library. She glanced around, grimoires everywhere. Not that the message would be about anything important, nothing ever happened in this part of Lithunesia. Well, not since the dark days.

“Hey, Kai, come here?”

Her colleague approached, eating his sandwich as he looked up. “Hmm?”

“The ceiling. The rafters. The smoke.” She gestured upwards and he stopped chewing, eyes widening.

“Call the guards.” His voice was serious, not the usual joking inflection.

“What?” Katrina was confused. There were often unexplained things that happened around the old library and they never bothered to involve the guards. It caused more trouble than was necessary.

“This is serious. Call the guards.”

“Kai, I know your little girlfriend is captain of the guard but we don’t need to involve them in a little-”

The Dark Spell Rises 

“What is-” Katrina was interrupted.

“I told you. The guard.” His tone brokered no argument. “And lock the library. We don’t want any others coming here.”

“Right…” She felt the cold bite of the snow as she walked out, having forgotten her cloak in the urgency. She shivered, walking across the courtyard to the guard’s tower. Oddly, the tower was dark and quiet. It was midday, there should be a fire and at least two guardsmen there.

Her hair stood on end, goose pimples appearing as she stepped closer. These weren’t the result of the cold, but the suspicious absence of guards at this tower. In her 20 years she’d never seen it empty or dark. Not even on the Feast Days held in honor of the defeat of the Dark Elf.

Something was off. And she was not going to be the one to find out. She turned around, her eyes not registering what was going on for a moment. The library was under a dark cloud, black vapor covering the top.

“What in the name of Vader?”

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Now, I know that the whole idea of flash fiction is to keep the entire story to under 1,000 words or so but the idea that I have for this has turned into a story kernel and I feel like ending it here is a good idea so I can work on turning this idea into more.

–  Jessica

30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge Day 1 Day 3

 

Day 1: An Impulse Buy Leading to Galactic Warfare

Earth 2235

“So this is Earth?” Klargon shielded his eyes to block out the solar radiation. “I thought it was supposed to be a lush planet.” He felt the sand beneath his tentacles as he walked toward the shining pyramid. He knew that most of the human civilization had died out in the nuclear war of 2017, but now, over 200 years later it should have become the lush and green planet that was advertised in his Light Years Travel brochure.

As he stood at the base of the pyramid, he waited for his guide to catch up.  “I told you, Earth isn’t as impressive as you think. At least not Egypt. We’re in the middle of a desert.”

 

“Well then what can I do while I’m here? Are there any interesting things to see, places to buy an Earth Souvenir?” Klargon huffed. “I could have gone to Mars and seen the re-inaction of the conquest of the Greys.”

 

A strange smile crossed his guide’s face. “Have you heard tell of the mummies of Earth?” He opened the gate to the pyramid and led the slithering alien inside. “It is said that in ancient times, when you Sylvians were discovering the idea of light speed humans would worship their kings. Kings who were worshipped as Gods.”

 

“Humans believe in the idea of Gods? I was told they were a warrior race that had no need of that.”

 

“Yes, here on Earth there was a long tradition in varying beliefs of Gods. The place that we’re in now, Egypt, has one of the oldest uses of religion. They are also the only survivors of The Great War, and run this galaxy.”

 

He led down through the surprisingly cool passageways, showing Klargon the art and features of the temple he called the Pyramid of Giza.

 

“And here, is the most fascinating part. A human mummy. Made from the body of President John F Kennedy after he was killed by warring factions in the United States.”

 

Wow. The man, clearly dead, was impressive. Klargon knew what he wanted.

 

“Can I buy it? It would be perfect to show in my ship.”

 

“Yes, yes. Anything, after all, is possible.” His guide smiled the universally known smile of his people, the Businessmen.

 

“The earthlings don’t mind? I thought the dead were special to them?”

 

“No, no, they’ll sell anything to make a profit.” Klaus Von Hilden, guide, opened his wristwatch. He took out a gun, scanned the mummy and arranged for the transportation to his travel ship.

 

“Your balance will be sent upon arriving in Andromeda galaxy. Don’t worry about anything else.”

 

Klargon grinned, his slimy skin making a Medusa-like look. “Thank you sir. This trip is now worth it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvanius 2035

 

“And in what is being seen as intergalactic act of war, someone has stolen the mummy of the great JFK from the human homeland of Earth.”

 

Klargon looked back, holding the now cleaned skull of his treasure. “I bought it…”

30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge

30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge

Recently, while on Pinterest I found myself looking at ways to get back into writing and to get back to publishing regular content on this blog. After a whirlwind of a year, where I spent most of the year ill and trying to keep up with basics, I’ve decided the best way to start writing again is flash fiction.

For those of you who don’t know flash fiction is, it’s simply fiction that is short, typically under 1,000 words for a complete story. I found this website EADEVERELL.COM where there are links to flash fiction prompts and decided the 30 day challenge would be my first steps back.

So, for every day in January I will post one of these stories before gearing up the site again.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4

Intergalactic

Sophie shivered for what must have been the millionth time. It seemed she hadn’t been warm in ages; at least not since she was thrown into the dungeon nearly a year ago. She blew air through her hands; sending a small wave of warmth through them and making a cloud of hot air appear in front of her. ‘Will they ever find me here? Or will I become one of the many skeletons decorating this dungeon?

As she thought that, a rustling came from the far side of the dungeon, near the entrance. ‘Tsepisch must be really angry today if he’s sending so many people down here.’ She moved towards the front of her cell, the motion warming her up. There was a sight that she had never expected. Her mentor, the Rebel leader Doug Solo was in the dungeon. He was fighting his way through four Draconian guards, towards her cell. His fighting was an amazing thing to behold as he took on the aliens who were stronger two humans each. He was almost winning. A quick slice from his blade and one fell. Then another and finally the last was gone. He was now on his way towards her. Calmly, he threw clothes and an Imperial Uniform at her as he tried to open the cell.

Sophie sluggishly changed into the clothes, her movements weak and slow because of her lack of food and nutrition. The clothes seemed to be radiating warmth, quickly bringing her body temperature back to normal.

“Come on Sophie, we have to get out now. We have only about thirty seconds until they come to check on the dungeon. Fighting the guards took longer than expected.” He grabbed her arm and practically carried her towards the exit.

“Doug! How, when?” Sophie was stuttering and trying to comprehend what was going on as they rushed out of the dungeon and into a refrigerator.

“Why are we here? This is a fridge, not an escape pathway!” her voice was nearly in hysterics.

Doug made a shushing motion with his hands and reached towards a bottle, pulling it towards them. The back of the fridge opened, revealing a passageway.

“Be quiet and quick. This is one of the old tunnels from when this palace was ruled by the just Mangini family. We must be silent thought, or they will catch us.”

The path was sloping and seemed to be going towards the dungeons again. Doug quickly turned to the right fork and stepped into a wall. He pulled Sophie through and into a car.

—————————————————Many Years Later—————————————————–

Splash!

The water rippled as the girl’s left foot slammed into the puddle. In the distance Sophie heard the hum of the speeder engine. That was the sound of her impending demise. Sophie had been running from the aliens since they first landed when she was just 10. She sped up again, tearing her white shirt on the briars and leaving a trail of blood behind her. She ran into the muddy lake just as the ship touched down. Her thoughts were a blur. ‘Why do they keep chasing me? It’s not as if I am the only gifted child here on Mars.’ Her throat began to tighten and she reluctantly surfaced for air.

She took in two large breaths, each making a raspy sound that perked the guards’ ears. They turned their heads looking for the source. Sophie was again repulsed by the faces of the Draconians. They were flat, grey, and covered in scales that sparkled. The eyes were red and hollow, like blood.  The lead guard, Gibberish, she thought his name was, pointed at her and a shrill cry came him though he had no visible mouth. Like lighting, a tracking pod had her. She struggled to no avail. The force field she was held in was impenetrable. She knew it was; she had seen her mentor blown to pieces trying to take one apart. Sophie stopped struggling and sank in defeat.  She looked at her torn burlap shirt and ratty leather pants and wondered how long it had been since she’d escaped from the prison camp on the dumpy planet of Earth. It had to have been at least a season since she’d landed here on Mars, the headquarters of the Empire and rebellion. The tracking pod suddenly came to a halt and dumped her into the throne room of the Emperor.

Instinct taking over she bowed and repeated the traditional greeting that meant something like ‘greetings oh great ruler, God of the Universe.’ A high, mocking laugh came from the far end of the room where King Marcus Tsepisch sat. His withered frame was once that of a handsome, strong man who was one the former planets Most Beautiful People. When he had began to take over the galaxy under the Galactic Empire, Mars thought it was a great honor to have the leader of the galaxy come from their own soil.

“You dare to enter my court and mock me with that petty display of false loyalty? I ought to have your head on a platter for that my dear Sophie. I told you the last time you escaped that there would be no mercy.” His voice was low and soft, with a harsh tone that inspired fear from all who heard him.

Sophie defiantly stared at the Lord, twisting her body to face him.

“I was never loyal to you!” she spat out, rushing towards him in her fury. The bolts hit her like a thousand volts of electricity. She lay writhing in pain on the ground as the King looked on in amusement. He felt a strange sort of excitement at watching the former pride of the Galactic Army at his mercy.

“You were never loyal to me and the Empire? Was that before or after you blew up Jupiter or Neptune?” he cackled, signaling for the bolts to stop.

“Never,” she gasped clutching the left side of her ribs in pain, “I was never loyal to you.” Sophie knew as she said this she was sealing her fate. She would be executed for what she was about to say. “Who could be loyal to such a cruel, evil master?”

Her mind was racing. She glanced around, searching for any of the members of the Resistance. None were there. Those who they had planted in his service were all gone now. Either they were dead or with the rebels. She had no way to escape. Death was the only possibility now.

Just as she felt the resignation to her fate begin to fill her soul, there was a loud noise from outside of the throne room. Shouts came from Draconian guards mingled with the cries of humans. Tsepisch turned his head towards the sound.

“Guards, go end this fight now.” He commanded, signaling for two warriors to stop. “Gibberish, you and Klarg take the prisoner to the dungeon. Guard her there until I send two more to relieve you.”

“Yes master.” They whispered in unison, roughly tugging Sophie to her feet and practically dragging down the damp passage way that lead to the dungeons. She had been there once as a child. It was a dark place with never ending catacombs and many dead bodies all around.  As they reached the end of the first level, a cell was opened and she was tossed inside.

This cell was the exact one she’d been forced to live in for a year when she was here the last time. She looked around, shivering as the cold began to seep through her thin, torn clothing.  The cell had tattered fragments of cloth lying around, with a skeleton in the corner. If it was someone who actually died in the cell or simply a plant by the Empire to inspire fear, Sophie didn’t know; it still sent foreboding chills down her spine.

To Be Continued….