Here’s a small flash fiction piece at exactly 100 words. This is inspired by a scene in my current work in progress, Duskchild.
Alloran awoke in a sudden rush of awareness, pain blossoming from what seemed to be every part of his body at once. The pain reminded him of his younger days, back when he’d been little more than a slave to his uncle. The beatings then had hurt as bad as anything he’d known.
This was worse though. Much worse.
Localized in his arms, but radiating out to every part of his body, the pain cascaded through him with the force of a mighty gale. He opened his eyes, noticing the three gemstones embedded in each arm.
Death would’ve been better.
Flash fiction is a short short story (in this case less than 100 words) based off a given prompt. This week the prompt is as follows:
He was at a crossroads
Here’s my take on it:
Richard Allinnor Smith was either going to live, or he was going to die. He didn’t really care which. However, he was at a crossroads. It was one of those moments when whatever it was that drove the rotation of the world, be it fate, God, the devil, or just pure, miserable chance, wouldn’t let a poor soul off until he’d made some sort of decision.
He wasn’t going to get out of it.
Richard licked his lips and adjusted the straps, nodding to the man near the door, who flung it open.
Richard swallowed and jumped from the plane.
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