Flash: Commitment

Photo from Dreamstime (paid stock art)

“One way or another,” ja’Zel rocked back and forth, “I’m gonna find you.” She dug in with one foot, pushing hard into the soil, then exploded forward, pushing hard each step, gaining speed. “I’m gonna get you.” A moment to suck in air before …

Flinging herself into the Between. A chasm cut by the gods not a month ago to keep two tribes from war.

“Forever, you and me.” Her knees and hands hit the edge, the dirt still loose from the quake, but momentum rolled her forward the last few inches. Tears streamed down her face as her fear broke from where she had tightly bound it.

She sobbed in the early morning light, one, two gulps. “Enough of that. Time to move. ma’Drel here I come.”

(word 129; first published 9/24/23)

Flash: Storm Front

Photo from Unsplash

They called him “god”, an eternity ago. One of his many eternities. Each crashing against him, waves against stone. An immortal mutation born before such concepts even existed.

But immortality has limits, requirements. A planet to live on, air to breathe, water to drink.

Earth and him knew each other well at this point, and he could feel the changes building in his long-time companion, tipping like an avalanche, snowballing like an ice age. If the eight billion people of the world did not get their act together, he will don the mantle of a deity once again.

Today, his annoyance led him back to the sea with a purpose. He’ll remind the nations what the oceans can do when enough heat is dumped in them. He blew his beautiful water planet a kiss. The caress swirling out to join a tropical depression.

(words 143, first published 9/17/2023)

Flash: Raptors by the Sea

Photo from Unsplash

The endless blue where the sea met sky brings Mave around for another soar on the updraft from the overheated air baking above the beach sands. She could stay up here forever, at least the part of her which flies begs her to. Enough human remains to acknowledge the fatigue, and monitor the time in form to nudge her into finally landing on a dead tree hanging over the cliffs protecting the isolated cove.

Transforming into her birth form, the female shifter leans against the denuded trunk. Far below the waves race up the shoreline, the cove’s sandy beach disappearing under the incoming tide. Soon she would need to return to the Tower Aerie; at least this time, her explorations brought her to a place she would be flying east. Last adventure had her flying into the sun during the final hours of the day.

A second raptor, a black version of her white and tan bird, flies over the western cliffs. With a scream, it dives into the ocean and comes up with a fish, then turned her way. Concentrating on the food in its claws, it doesn’t notice her partially hidden by the trunk until the creature’s wingspan is spread for landing on the branch.

It caws, and banks too late, making an undignified startled landing, before the being transforms into a man, the fish falling back into the ocean beneath them.

“A little help here,” he says, holding onto the branch one handed until he swings the other to hug the branch from beneath. Mave laughs and walks the branch to where he is holding on, feeling no give in the dead wood nor hearing any cracks. As a bird shifter, his arms would be stronger than his legs. He didn’t need any assistance, and she tells him as much.

Flashing a smile, he says, “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” before he twists up, his muscles rippling across his arms and bare torso. Once on the wide branch, he stands easily, looking down at her, his height a hand’s width taller than hers. “Bryce, High Cliffs Clan.”

“Mave, Stone Tower.”

Bryce’s black eyes darken to raptor pupils, his smile widening. The limited size of the branch has Mave taking a step back to lean against the trunk.

“A bit far aflight for one of the plains folk.” He closes the distance, resting an arm against the trunk.

She could see the feather pattern lining his arm, looking like a tattoo against the human skin.

“I needed to think.”

He moves close enough, Mave could feel the heat radiating off Bryce. His hands smells fishy, but his hair and skin smell like wind and sea.

“About what, my pretty bird?”

Mave rolls her eyes. “Oh goddess, please.”

“Too much?” Bryce backs up.

“Your clan short on females?” Mave shakes her head. “Have you had any practice at all with flirting?”

“Actually no for both.” Bryce sits down on the wood, picking at one of the few pieces of bark the prevailing sea winds hadn’t stripped from the tree. “All the women ahead of me are happily paired off, and all those younger than me are too much younger than me, if you know what I mean. So, we got women, just none I could practice with. All I got is pretty much what Mom and Dad say to each other. And I just tried one of Dad’s favorite lines.”

“Oh, no.” Mave, covers her mouth to hide her laughter. “Your parents are complete corn-balls. You are so screwed if you must court at the Aviary Gathering next Spring.”

“Yep,” Bryce turns his smile up to her, “but maybe it will work on someone and I get something like what they have. They completely are in love and just dive into their little nothings like a fish is just three inches under water. How about you? Any male back home ruffling your feathers?”

The giggling smile erases from Mave’s face. “That is why I’m thinking.”

“That can’t be good.” Bryce face firms, his voice deepening. “Would it help to talk it out with someone with no feathers in the aerie? That is, if it is something you feel comfortable about talking outside the clan.”

“I’m in a bidding war.”

“Ugh, like cock fighting level?” At her nod, Bryce asks, “How many involved?”

She stares back out at the sea. “Four.”

“Your clan have no women at all?”

“Oh, we got a good mix, but ….” Mave pushes against the trunk to stand without leaning. “I’m the fastest, male or female, daughter of the present lead flyers, granddaughter of Stone Tower.”

“In other words, whoever wins and builds your nest, is the next leader.”

“They wish.”

Bryce chuckles. “Only the highest nest for you, and you don’t think any of them can fly that high.”

“I know they can’t. None of them have followed me out here.” She waves her arm at the expanse before them, the ocean turning slightly pink as the sun dips low to see its reflection in the waters.

“Did you want them to follow you?” He cocked his head to the side.

Mave shakes her body once, settling her mental feathers. “I don’t really know. … I really wish I knew.”

“Would you like me to follow you?”

The growl is more human than bird, and makes Mave shiver her feathers flat again. Pulling together her dignity, she dares a challenge. “You think you could?”

“Not today,” Bryce nods to the west, “I would need to let my clan know. But … tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” Mave steps off the branch and transforms mid-fall, skimming along the waves filling in the cove below. A shadow flies overhead. She slaps her wings against the water and pulls up to see the dark raptor circle above before heading west. Mave screeches, circling once, before heading east.

(words 980, first published 9/10/2023)

Raptors by the Sea Series

  1. Raptors by the Sea (9/10/2023)
  2. Outside the Aerie (11/19/2023)
  3. Oghan’s Return (12/17/2023)

Flash: Forging Hard Metal

Photo from Unsplash

“When are you going to be done?”

“When I’m damn well ready,” the blacksmith cursed over the roar of the forge, her voice rough from long hours over the heat.

The patron edged closer to the line of brick demarcating the store from the workspace, the elder of the blacksmith’s apprentices rocking from foot-to-foot beside him, not wanting to interfere with or touch the noble, but the lad would the instant Ferdous breached the safety measures. The other youth worked the bellows. Searing heat kept the noble at bay better than reason. “I need the horse now.”

“You needed to have brought me Goliath yesterday then. None of the normal shoes fit that behemoth,” Maddy screamed into the flames, not taking her eyes off the glowing coals and the red horse shoes softening there. “Take a different one from the stable.”

“I’m not riding to the capital on a gelding.”

“Then come back tomorrow when big man is properly shod.” Because while her patron would risk riding his animals without shoes on their hooves, his wife paid both her and his stableman to keep the man from his own stupidity and everyone in the fiefdom knew who pulled the purse strings. His option was one of the normal riding horses, not the breeding stallion who had been in the pasture for the last year, if he wanted now.

“The summons is in two days; I don’t have time.”

Pulling out the first of the shoes, Maddy moved over to the anvil, nodding to the groomsman holding the chestnut stallion in the stall alongside her forge area. She picked up the hammer, looked at the man who owned the county and all the souls therein, and shook her head. Everyone had seen the royal herald arrive this morning; for once, the demand wasn’t simple stupidity. “I’ll do what I can. Two hours. Get packed and get back here. Penner, go get Merry.” The elder apprentice took off at a run. “And my Lord, have someone bring Goliath’s tackle if you are in that much of a rush.”

Ferdous narrowed his eyes are she swung her hammer, ending their conversation.

(words 358, first published 9/3/2023)

Flash: Second Person

Photo from dreamtime.com (paid)

“That’s far enough now.”

You spin, and behind you are four armed maskers. The end of the world wasn’t bad enough, people had to make it worse. Two automatics, one pistol, and a god-nose – a plasma thrower to burn infected. COVID continues mutate faster than the few scientists not drafted for climate change could keep up.

Putting out your hands, you say, “I’m just scavenging, I don’t mean any harm.”

The one with the pistol says, “We noticed, but, like we said, that’s far enough. Turn around.”

“Please, there is nothing behind.” Hunger makes you dizzy, weak, and whiny. Only the recent rains keeps you upright, your canteens full.

“And nothing ahead.”

The story of everywhere now. The few countries able to claw civilization back from hurricanes, tornados, heat waves, and blizzards took no immigrants. Those without government took no prisoners.

Desperate, you plead, stuttering, “Is … is there … anything … anything you nee—”

“No.” Came back firmly without letting you finish your question.

The stone structures, if fixed up, could offer safety in the winter months. “Could I, maybe—”

“No.” The one with the pistol raises it.

Sighing, you debate eating the bullet, but what has kept you moving the last four years turns you around. Looking over your shoulder, you offer, “May your crops grow well and your water be fresh.”

They don’t move. You walk away from your old college campus wondering if your old professors or classmates are behind those masks.

(words 248, first published 8/27/23)