Flash 500 by Nicole Pyles, Carrie K Sorensen (black authors fiction .txt) 📖

my dear?' Marina didn't bother with a reply, it would be a futile effort. She took his arm and let him lead her down the stairs and out the front door. The sun shone high in the sky making her squint, too long she'd been cooped up in the house.

 

In the car she watched the houses go by, shops filled with people, the park where the children played. Nobody cared that this was her special day. She doubted anyone even knew. It was to herald a new phase in her life, father said. A new chapter filled with excitement. At least it was for him. This marriage would seal the biggest deal in his career, a solid link with the most powerful family in the country. She'd never even met her groom. She guessed he may be handsome. She needed a good match, father said, to look after her and keep her from the gutter.

 

She looked at the church as they approached, it's grey walls uninviting. There were no crowds awaiting them, no family and friends to celebrate with. Just her groom, his father, her father and the vicar. Was it really only her that noticed the oddness in that?

 

The ceremony would be short, she was told. A quick blessing afterwards and then they were to head north, to their new home. She had no idea where, but wondered if she could get lost somewhere on the way. There had to be plenty of places to escape to, or from. She lived in hope.

 

 

About Heather Musk

 

I wish I could say that I've been writing ever since I can remember and it's been a part of my life since I've been on the planet, but the truth is I can't.

 

It has taken the best part of 30 years to find this hidden thing within me, which is the need to write. It's my own kind of therapy, a way to engross myself in something else away from my life, my own bubble of the universe.

 

I'm still at the very beginning of this journey, learning and honing my skills. On the way I also have my husband and five year old daughter to contend with, as well as working towards an English degree with The Open University and working nearly full time for a science research institute. What can I say? I like to keep myself busy.

 

To join me on my travels and follow my progress head over to readingwritingeverything-heather.blogspot.co.uk.

 

 

 

 

Cult of the Fang by Randy Lindsay

 

The old church faced north. Except that it wasn't old and it wasn't a church. The building permit for this architectural throwback had been filed six years ago. And who ever heard of a church as big and grandiose as this building that didn't display any religious symbols.

 

No, this was a sanctuary for the Cult of the Fang. Heaven only knew why they faced their dens of death to the north.

 

A gleam from the gutter caught Jim's eye. He bent over and retrieved a necklace with a small silver cross. No doubt, cultists had stripped it from some poor soul before dragging them inside. Jim put the necklace into his pocket and then slunk towards the property.

 

With the sun low in the sky it wouldn't be long before the cult's master arose. When that happened no place within twenty miles would be safe for Jim. He had to strike now.

 

Jim decided against climbing the wrought-iron fence surrounding the property and chose to pick the over-sized padlock that secured the gate. After checking the street to make sure it was clear he pulled out his lock-smithing tools and opened the lock in under a minute. The front door of the faux church proved no more of a challenge.

 

Slipping inside, Jim listened for activity.

 

Nothing.

 

As quiet as a tomb and it smelled like one too.

 

He snuck along the walls, using what furniture and trappings there were for cover. If the cultists had followed tradition when designing the sanctuary, the next room would be a huge, fancy hall and beyond that the private sanctum of their master.

 

Jim slid the door back without making a sound. The reek of blood assaulted his senses. He paused for a moment, watching for movement inside, adjusting to the smell. The way appeared clear.

 

He had made it halfway across the central room when doors opened all around him. Cultists stepped inside, cruel smiles on their faces.

 

"Herald," one of the cultists called out in an old, raspy voice. "You crossed the line. The Pact forbids you from directly interfering in our affairs. Now that you have, the clause that protected you is void. It seems that you have reached the end of your participation in our millennium old conflict."

 

"It is a stalemate that has continued for far too long," said Jim.

 

The cultists tightened the circle around the Herald and he feigned a break through their lines. As they wrestled him to the center of the room he retrieved the necklace and placed it in his mouth.

 

They positioned him over a huge mahogany bowl and spilled his blood.

 

Jim let the necklace fall out of his mouth and into the bowl. With the last of his life energy he mumbled the prayer that would purify the blood and poison the cult's master when he drank it.

 

The rules of the pact hadn't changed, just their understanding of it.

 

To defeat evil – sacrifices had to be made.

 

 

About Randy Lindsay

 

Randy is a native of Arizona. In his spare time he likes to play games with his children, fish, and conduct family history research. His stories have been published in Gentle Strength Quarterly, The City of the Gods: Mythic Tales, and Penumbra. Two more have been purchased for publication this year; one for the second City of the Gods anthology and the other for the Once Upon An Apocalypse anthology by Chaosium.

 

http://randylindsay.blogspot.com/

Week of 8/1/2012

Week of 8/1/2012

 

Photo courtesy of Dawn Ellner

 

 

Words Required

 

Wallet

 

Circus

 

Kid

 

Cruise Ship

 

Slide

 

 

 

 

Where Innocence Blossomed by Anne Organista

 

"What would you do if you had a million dollars?" Katy asked.

 

Ally remembered how, since first grade, she and Katy would walk down by the old railroad track while everyone took a nap after lunch. Like most children, they loved imagining things by asking each one the most ludicrous questions they could think of.

 

It was their last summer together. Both girls were leaving for college, though to different universities.

 

"If I had a million dollars, I'd ride a cruise ship and go around the world," Ally beamed, hopping on one leg down the tracks.

 

"I'd go to a circus and ask the magician to teach me all his tricks," Katy said, as if talking to herself.

 

"Seriously?" Ally peered at her friend. "A million dollars for a circus?"

 

"Wouldn't it be great if I was a magician? I could be anything I wanted to be and do whatever I wanted to do," Katy sighed, as she brushed the pebbles along the tracks with her right shoe.

 

"What ... what would you want to do?" Ally asked hesitantly.

 

Katy had that look on her face again. It wasn't a pleasant look. There was so much pain, Ally couldn't stand it. It also scared her a bit. She had asked Katy about it a couple of times but she just looked away.

 

"To be a kid again," she answered and this time, looked at Ally with deep sadness in her eyes.

 

"But you're barely out of your teens!"

 

"Oh, you know what I mean, Ally! A real kid!" she insisted. "A kid who doesn't know anything. A kid who can just play without a care in the world."

 

"We can do that! Look!" Ally started to hop on one leg again, hoping to convince her friend that everything was all right.

 

But Katy was crying, pools of tears now gathering around her big blue eyes. Ally was scared. Her friend was telling her something she didn't want to think about.

 

"Katy, please!" Ally asked, rushing to the slide under the old sycamore tree where Katy now sat.

 

"I had a dream last night. It was my 7th birthday and Ma and Pa were beside me, blowing out my birthday candles." Katy's voice was hushed, tears streaming down her pretty young face.

 

"Oh Katy, not again! C'mon, it's been years! Let it go!" Ally pleaded.

 

"He's still out there, Ally. I need to go after him."

 

"But, why Katy? Why?"

 

"Because I have his wallet. It's the only thing I have to prove what he did to me, what he did to Ma and Pa. It's the only thing I can do to stop him from coming in my dreams."

 

Clouds hovered in the sky and small drops of rain splattered on the dusty railroad tracks. Ally knew Katy would never be the same again.

 

Like the old railroad tracks where innocence had blossomed but was now worn out, the vibrant friend she used to know had been rudely torn to pieces.

 

 

About Anne Organista

 

Ever since she was a child, Anne remembers getting lost in her reading and writing. She graduated from Trinity College Dublin in Ireland with a Masters in Education. Despite being an English and History teacher for most of her professional life, Anne never got rid of the itch to write.

 

It continues to be her biggest passion. Her short stories, poems and personal reflections are showcased in her blog www.anne-writersspace.blogspot.com for the sole reason that she wanted "to test the waters and see if people will even read it."

 

Anne's biggest dream is to write a book and get it published someday. After 5 drafts and the first 21 pages completed, she continues to dream and hopes to see her work to its final stage.

 

Today, Anne freelances between ESL teaching, writing educational scripts and editing academic textbooks. On occasion, she facilitates seminar workshops for teachers with a team from the Mentoring the Mentors Program (MMP).

 

She lives with her husband in Manila, Philippines.

 

 

 

 

Dreams Lived and Forgotten by Yolanda Tong

 

I

Each day she followed the train tracks on her long walk to and from town. Her young daughter would complain about the distance, her small legs struggling to keep going. She could have taken the road, and she did when it rained, or when the snow was too deep. Out here she was left alone with her adult memories of secret childhood dreams of exploring the world.

 

"Mommy, how far do these tracks go?" Her daughter asked one day.

 

"They go very very far stretching from sea to sea. In that direction the train goes to Vancouver at the Pacific Ocean." She turned and pointed in the opposite direction. "In that direction, it goes very very far. Past the Rocky Mountains, past the prairies filled with wheat fields, past the Great Lakes and eventually it ends at the Atlantic Ocean."

 

"Can we go to the Atlantic Ocean too Mommy?"

 

"No sweetheart, it is too far."

 

Her daughter was only momentarily disappointed, still a young kid, and too little to understand the enormity of the distance. She wasn't surprised, even she had no idea how far it actually was. She'd lived her whole life in this small town, and hadn't ventured too far away.

 

II

Five years passed, and she still walked with her daughter along these tracks whenever she could, though she was usually alone as her daughter now attended school. She had hoped things would get easier, but they never did. So she continued her