#30 Breath Fire (part 10)


Continued, check part 9

Fiction:

When Forster was born, realm was prospering. The combined efforts of humans and draconian strength had made economy boom.

Trade routes were established with Maximus existing captured regions. The burned lands were largely fertile and used for agriculture.

Reaves turned out to be a great King. The hostilities between humans and dragons still exist but is subdued.

His father Garge and mother Tamara were famous and examples of perfect Harmony between humans and dragons.

Dragons grew to be stronger than before. Reaves grew proud to have brought the dragons back to their esteemed glory.

And as this glory spread, people from all over the world looked to have an army of dragons at their disposal.

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#27 Breath Fire(Part 7)


Continued, check part 6

Fiction:

It was a crowd gathered in the great hall. Each and every dragon had assembled to have the humans blood. And the humans smelled of fear. Everyone except Tamara, who should be scared considering she was pregnant.

Oh man, Garge thought. If that child is mine,..

The entire court thought so. And whatever respect he had once possessed was gone. Everyone had come to know why the humans had invaded. Even that small piece of knowledge which was exclusive among his friends spread like fire. Like fire, that’s ironic Garge thought hysterically.

Tamara looked better. She was fraught with life one could say. Lips pink, face flush with rich blood and hair that when opened reached her hips. Beautiful hair.

With an effort he looked away from her and tried to think like he was meant to. The daughter of the King was here, she was their hostage. With her as leverage the incoming war could be put in stalemate.

But, why was she here? Was she here on behalf of her father? Or she had some other ulterior motive.

Eventually, the crowd got bored. They were anxious to know the same answers and when she spoke, the crowd were dumbed into silence.

‘Garge is the father of the child I carry.’

No one could speak, even if they found their voices they would not know what to say. And Garge was in the worst possible position ever. Not only his actions had caused a war, he had also coupled and fathered a half human half dragon.

‘My family’s customs are simple. He will have to marry me and father this indomitable child. It is law’ Tamara continued.

Reaves finally found his voice ‘Don’t preach me law you whore! You who laid your legs bare to the first male you could find, only he was not even your species. I would not be surprised to find you giving birth to a horse son one day!’

Tamara was shocked. Garge quickly got his wits under his control and murmured Reaves to control. Reaves, with a visible effort continued ‘I am sorry for that, it was not how I should talk to a woman. But if we do believed you and understand that the child is Garge’s then I could not gather what would you have us done? You want to coerce him into marriage, it is fair practice but futile as we are almost on the brink of extinction with your father’s armies on the coast ready to slaughter us. So what would you have us do?’

Tamara looked close to tears, and Garge suddenly recalled that night when he laid with her. It had something to do with watching her cry after the wolves have fled, after she was safe in Garge’s arms. She had cried for hours then and every tear she shed was a knife in Garge’s chest.

Apparently the entire hall felt the same way. More than one person looked ready to run to comfort her. Reaves felt the same way. She spoke again trembling ‘He would eventually kill me. And our child. Right after child was born he swore he would take the cord and use it to choke our child. And after the child has stopped breathing he would feed me his entrails and kill me. Those were his words. He doesn’t care for any of his children, neither me nor his elder son, the one who you killed on the island. He would kill us all of could just so he could exterminate all dragons.’

Now everyone was angry. Tamara had to be defended, everyone would agree on that. But what of Garge, that decision was pending. And he didn’t have a lot of hopes. So while they spoke on he quietly escaped the court and went to the terrace.

He loved the night sky. Thousands upon thousands of stars. So many that numbers would not suffice to count them. But doesn’t like them when he turned into dragon. Dragon eyes couldn’t appreciate that beauty. Only human eyes could.

Today the stars looked dimmer. He heard movement behind him and found Reaves with him. And a little behind Tamara. They were alone up on the terrace.

Reaves visage had none of the usual arrogance and looked somber. The guy next to him was his childhood friend, his only friend in a realm of nearly extinct race.

They needed to decide their next move. And about Tamara.

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#26 Breath Fire(Part 6)


Continued, check part 5

Fiction:

Aftermath of the fire match was worse than anticipated. Those soldiers who made into the shore in the first wave were gasping for air, smoke had lodged deep in their lungs. With some minor wounds and burns that were ignored in a desperate attempt to stay alive, they quickly began screaming in pain.

One of the ships carrying many doctors was burned in entirety. So now doctors were severely overburdened. Then came those who were had severe burns and injuries. They were found floating in the ocean, they pain had made them unconscious. Most of them were drifting out of consciousness. And the hospital camp was so full of them, their dreams consisting of fire and smoke. More than one of them woke up and quickly panicked seeing the candle flames. Controlling them was harder as where ever they had skin they had been burnt. One of the soldier was so badly burnt that he was unidentifiable. It was a surprise that he was alive.

Small rowboats were out in the ocean, trying to find more survivers. At least half of the King’s army was in the hospital screaming curses at those fire breathing reptiles.

King Prius had almost lost this war. All because of the stunt of his smaller brother on the island. Meeting the parley was a futile gesture, King knew but his brother along with two archers had went nonetheless. His headless corpse was found later.

But the King hadn’t lost all sense, at least the new General Turin hadn’t. As soon as they landed, trenches were dug in. Scorpions and crossbows were setup. Guard was put up, from those who could keep guard. Turin himself was a mess. His face was burned and though in agony he continued giving orders and leading the army.

Turin’s ships was one of the last one to be attacked. By that colossal black dragon, who flees because it suffered wounds in that ship. Someone named Davis had attacked. Davis now lay on a bed, his face marred up that he had difficulty eating or breathing. He wouldn’t last.

But the dragons had suffered too. Two carcasses were drifting in the ocean. A white dragon, and dark blue. Both had three or more shards of wood lodged in their bodies.

The dragons would pay soon King Prius knew.

Back in the dragon’s land, two men’s passing was mourned. Their widows were furious, ready to be the in the first wave of offense. Their children though never flew before were also greedy to have some human blood.

And Garge was recovering. Though his scales were impenetrable, if attacked then the wound surfaced after he turned back to human form. Along with the raw agony.
That’s why he fled. If his wounds surpassed normal human form he would die. Dragons aren’t invincible. And this was the main reason of death.

He was woke by noise of talking. He looked up to find all the powerful in his room. Reaves and Wesley and Deacon.

‘What’s the enemies losses?’ He managed to croak.

Reaves looked at him sharply, his eyes like knives. Wesley spoke ‘The attack was hugely successful. Their dead are burned as we speak. The entire coast is full of burning pyres. As if your charge left any skin left to burn.’ He grinned, bastard was enjoying this.

But Garge detected fear underneath. He looked at Deacon and knew directly.

The enemy was wounded. But it was in no way enough to cripple them, not enough to make them turn around. And he was one who ordered the two brave soldiers to their grave.

He began thinking of the girl who he rescued in the jungle so long ago. Who thanked his help by spending the weekend with him. If only he knew that would the cause of this, he would never have helped her.

Who was he kidding? He knew he would helped her nonetheless. What was her name? Ah, Tamara.

He looked back his childhood friend Reaves and realised that he longed to ask about that instance. That how his rescue would cause their imminent annihilation.

A soldier walked in. Garge recognized the soldier. He was the white dragon, Quentin’s younger brother. He looked ragged but angry.

‘Majesty?’ He asked ‘There are some humans caught trying to sneak in. Their leader pleaded me to find you. She said her name was Tamara.’

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#25 Breath Fire (part 5)


Continued, check part 4:

Fiction:

Sargent Davis hated sea voyage. He always got seasick. Only good thing he could see was there was the land right in front of him. A few minutes more and they will be ashore.

And then Davis could pacify his revolting guts. Who cares what they are hunting? Kings make wars then make soldiers like him march. This will be always the rule.

Now they are facing dragons. Tomorrow they may face Krakens or something worse right out of hell. The trick was to keep head low, be aware and listen to instincts. His instincts always protected him.

And now he sensed something was about go real bad. Really really bad.

Davis looked at the captain of the ship, Turin. Turin never liked him, but maybe he will listen to warning. The warship leading was almost ashore, ships soldiers already armored and ready to brawl.

But there was no resistance observed there on the shore. No dragons. No men.

Excellent. But it looked like a trap. And Turin’s face betrayed the same.
Something made a huge splashing sound behind them. And then a howl rang out, loud enough to blow eardrums. A strong hot wind blew, a sound of a gush right behind their shows.

Davis turned and what he saw petrified him. No one had predicted this. A huge black dragon was coming out of the water, water was flowing down from his body like waterfall. He was larger than any other dragon Davis ever saw. And then the dripping dragon breathed fire. He twisted his head from one side to the next, a whole 180 degrees all the while he spat fire.

Sails and hulls caught fire, the heat was enough to cause agonizing burns to those in proximity of fire. In less than a second, more than 7 ships were on fire. And then dragon went under water again.

Davis quickly ducked and tried to go under the ship as soon as he saw the dragon. That helped somewhat. When dragon was back underwater, he glanced around. So many of the ship’s crew which were on broadside were burnt to crisp. None were moving. The captain Turin was moving and Davis saw that Turin’s face was burnt. The moans and cries of the writhing crew was not audible as commotions had started from other ships too. More dragons were coming out of water to burn ships. And because they were quickly inside water no scorpion could be aimed at them.

The rowing crew were still inside, aware of the commotion and probable fighting but rowing forward nonetheless. That was their job. To row.

Davis could not feel any pain, but that might be because he was in adrenaline rush. The pain will come later. Dragons were coming up more quickly than anticipated, burning more and more ships down. He saw a ship to his right being burned to a crisp. The rowers were being burnt inside, like in a furnace. He could see them trying to escape the ship from orifices that held the rows, their bodies being burned while they tried to escape.

This was bad. Almost every ship was burning, many have started to sink. And the saltwater of the ocean will cause agony of another dimensions to the crew.

The land! Just a couple of minutes away. The black dragon appeared again, this time in front of the ship. And instead of spitting fire he flew into the ship. With his tails, he quickly broke the scorpion into pieces. And then he made inferno.

He thrust his head inside the ship, breaking the wooden floor. And he opened fire. Even with so many screams all around them in the different ships, the screams coming from within were distinctive and clear. Hell! What happened on that island?!

Before Davis knew what was happening, he was up his sword in his hand and running towards the dragon. His scream was hoarse with smoke but quickly got others’ attention. Those who could, they lifted their arms and joined him.

He sprang into the creature’s back, scales slippy with water and thrust his sword deep. Or tried to. The scales were so tough the the sword bent. And others also had similar results. But the dragon howled and with a swift flick of his tail catapulted Davis into the sky.

Davis landed somewhere in the rocky part of the shore, face bloody and mangled.

But he was found alive after the inferno was over.

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#24 Breath Fire (Part 4)


Continued, see previous post part 3

Fiction:

Foreigner knew blood will be drawn. But the damn archers behind him were amateurs, they should nor stand behind me. They should move and flank the opponents. From where they stand, their aim was obstructed by foreigner himself.

Garge gave the order to Wesley. He could only hope the archers weren’t smart enough to discover their faulty positions. And before they do, the blood from foreigner would be dry.

Foreigner knew who was the real threat here. The one with the broadsword on his back. He was motionless, staring intently to the three foes. The broadsword couldn’t be swung so fast. The short swords would be the absolute victors here. But by the time they disengaged, if they could survive the armada would be picking up full speed. The island meet was a ruse, captains had orders to wait for ten minutes and then row in full speed.

So he gave an opening.

Garge saw foreigner glancing at the archers. And behind the archers he saw the ships gently rowing. This was a distraction! Now!

He moved like a snake, left hand flashing and throwing a knife at the first archer. No one expects him to carry concealed throwing knives. The knife hit perfectly in the neck of the archer, the other flinching from the attack. His right hand shot up and Icebreaker was out of the scabbard in an eye blink and cutting the air towards the foreigner’s head.

Foreigner moved at the last second, rolling towards the right to avoid the sword. Behind Garge, Wesley threw his throwing axe towards the second archer.

Archer dodged but by the time he recovered, Wesley and Reaves was on him. He didn’t have a chance and was down in a second.

Foreigner saw he was outnumbered. And the one with broadsword was faster than lightening. He knew he would be dead soon.

‘How about that champion?’

Garge smiled and attacked. His broadsword was blocked twice before his feigned swing to the neck came down at the stomach. Icebreaker sliced through skin like butter.

All three were breathing fiercely. The island meet was turned up against them. Invaders weren’t scared and their intent was more dire than previously thought. And to think they are the last settlement of dragons…

That later. Garge picked up command easily and called them to turn. But the problem with the close ship was the scorpion. None of them could be allowed to be injured or worse.

‘We fly close low. And fast’

Garge ran towards the homeland, others close by, following on his heels. He muttered a small spell, and he began transforming.

Turning to dragon the first time was the worst. The skin starts boiling, and with each centimeter of soft skin changing into scales, the pain experienced is almost unbearable. And underneath their bones elongate and wings spring from the back.

After turning so many times, the one second pain was almost bearable. Almost. Three howled in the pains and turned. The running helped pick up speed and they cruised across the ocean.

Garge, huge and black. Reaves on his left, brown. And Wesley on the right, green. They could see their own reflections in the water. No matter how many times they saw that, seeing it again was breathtaking.

As they reached homeland the reverted back to human forms to talk. Garge immediately barked orders at a messenger to assemble ten strong and swift fliers.

‘Mind telling me why he named you?!’ Reaves shouted from behind him.

‘I did meet and rescue a girl’ Garge began ‘but never saw this coming. Would you have seen this outcome?’

‘How stupid are you?’ Wesley began, clearly happy with the mistake, ‘you know how those humans are. Always looking for new things to tame and kill. Now they are here for us.’

Deacon intervened before things got out of hand ‘Can we burn them over the sea?’

When no answer came forth he understood. But quickly realised Garge’s orders were to the very contrary.

‘What are you thinking of doing Garge?’

‘I am going to give you a window here. They have picked up speed. They will be here before the hour’s out. I am going to halt their progress for a while, trying to make sure I take as many of them I can.’

The bastards had protected themselves against the sky. But they forgot the waters.

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#23 Breath Fire (Part 3)


Continuation, check previous post, part 2

Fiction:

Hundreds. It seemed as if the next incoming wave was full of ships. They must been tens of thousands on board.

‘I told you a war was coming. Whoever they are, they must have heard the same tales and came here to tame dragons, to tame us.’ Wesley said. He was the only one who was smiling. Who was happy.

Garge, Reaves and all the soldiers were grim. This was not going to be a war. This will be a massacre, their massacre.

‘Deacon, start readying troops. Accumulate stores and get ready for a siege. We could not hold the shore, but if we let them land we are doomed. What should be done here?’ Reaves mused out loud.

Rookie mistake, Garge knew, to muse out loud in front of soldiers. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.  The blue horizon marred by brown tiny ships.

This is bad. Deacon estimated that the ships will be here by evening.

‘They want dragons don’t they? Let’s make them meet’ Wesley said ‘at sea they are defenseless, once we start burning none will survive. No harm to us.’

‘It is genocide. Destruction of such a scale would bring more people here. After all, so many ships can’t just disappear at sea’ Reaves muttered.

Deacon offered ‘You remember the island of San Viet?’

Of course, San Viet was visible in front of them. So close that it would need five minutes of flight to reach.

Garge got it. So did Reaves.

Five minutes later, three dragons rose from the coast. All the soldiers from the ships can see tiny specks in the sky, looking like birds but weren’t birds. The on board soldiers began shouting and pointing at the enemies in the skies and saw three descend into an island a little ahead of the coastline.

Sometime later, the Armada stopped and only one ship, seemingly the biggest of them proceeded towards the island. A small row boat, having three passengers and a rower reached the shore.

They were huge. Each of them was six feet tall at least, wearing nothing but armor and weapons. The one on the forefront was clearly their leader, as it was he who spoke first ‘In a small island like this, where would the dragons hide?’

‘They are capable of hiding themselves’ Reaves answered.

‘They? Or you?’

Shock was registered at Reaves face which pleased the foreigner. He continued

‘We know of you dragons, we have fought with you a long time ago. But then we were weak and outnumbered. Now, we are enough to have your species decimated three times over. We are sailing from shore to shore, killing your kind for your past deeds. And if we know true, you are the remnants of the fiercest creatures. And after you, men like us will rule.’

Reaves couldn’t speak for a while. Wesley’s knuckles were cracking, and smoke puffed out if his nostrils.

‘And there is your mighty army? You know if wood catches fire it would be really impossible to save the ship?’ Garge cut in.

The foreigner turned his eyes on him. He had icy blue eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

‘Have you wondered by now how we came to know of your existence? I mean this is a far land and your kind here is peaceful. So how?’ Foreigner digressed.

‘One of my daughters failed to reach home by sunset one evening. She didn’t come home the next night too. But when she did, she said that she was chased by wolves. She couldn’t fend for herself because they were too many. She said a fire breathing bird saved her. A dragon by the name Garge.’

If this was supposed to unsettle Garge, foreigner was disappointed. Garge, didn’t so much as twinge when he spoke ‘We will burn your armies before they land on our shore.’

‘And even before you can come close to breath fire among us, you will be shot down from the skies. Look at our ships,they are armored and defensive against things in the skies.’ As he said that he pointed towards his ship, and even though it was far, it wasn’t difficult to spot the giant scorpion on the ship.

No one could say anything. They wanted war, but this was going to be their end. They knew it in their bones, because the enemy knew them, knew how to kill them.

‘So you want to waste so much life just so you can kill us. I have heard of a practice to use champions..’ Reaves began pathetically but foreigner cut him off ‘You think I’ll willingly send one champion against a dragon? And what makes you think I would let them happen when I have gotten you cornered so easily.’

He waited to see the reactions in each of his opponents and smiled when he saw fear. He knew half the war is over.

He got up and removed his short swords, one in each hand. Behind him, both the soldiers had their arrows notched. The situation changed so suddenly and Garge knew there was only one way out of this. To cut his opponents down.

Wesley looked in ecstasy. Reaves looked as if he would shit himself.

‘Wesley, I know you want to but make sure that Reaves got out of here alive. You will get your blood sooner than you think.’

Out of the corner of his eyes, Wesley nodded.

War, here we come.

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#22 Breath Fire (Part 2)


(Check out previous post, part 1)
Continuation, fiction:

King Reaves loved this hall. It smelled like fire and smoke, like ash. And its his home. But his father lost this. How could he!

He never forgave his father. For being a loser. Dragons could not lose. We are invincible, even our names would ingrain fear in enemies’ bones.

And when we turn and soar up in the skies….

‘You summoned me, Majesty’ Garge said as he came into the hall. Garge was every bit as what a dragon should be. Huge, at least 6 feet tall, strong and muscular. Long black hair, always wearing his accustomed white coat with black trousers. Carrying a named broadsword at his back.

The Last King’s Broadsword, Icebreaker. Given to Garge as an honor for being far better at swordsmanship than any other in the realm. Or whatever is left of the realm.

‘Did you know my Father, the senile lizard made his last stand here twenty years ago?’ Reaves began ‘He turned here, and breathed fire at each and every soldier who came up that door. It is said that he nearly burned the King himself. The enemies waited till he tired and then they attacked all at once from all directions possible and killed him. Well most of them were burned their armor melted and stuck to their skins, only a handful survived. Not without burns. That was the bravest thing my Father did.’

Reaves knew Garge admired his Father. But he liked teasing nonetheless. Garge said nothing in reply, just stared like he always did.

It was said that he always stood that way, broadsword at his back in practice arena. Never moved and made his opponents sweat. By the time any movement happened, the opponent’s hands were so sweaty that they had difficulty holding the sword. And also because Garge was lightening fast.

‘Wesley says scouts spotted some  ships across the sea. He is sure that the enemy, whoever they are, are coming.’ Reaves said.

‘Your permission, Majesty?’ Garge began, sounding all humble. Reaves nodded waiting to hear his best friends honest words. Words he was sure will be contrary to his own.

‘Wesley would pick a fight with his dead mother because he likes the adrenaline rush. And because he would be hard for a night’s whoring then. You seriously going to have’ his word on imminent battle?’

They both stated at each other for a second the burst out laughing. None of them had believed Wesley’s word. Yet they had to talk about this.

‘The two captives?’

‘They swear they are alone. Here to catch a dragon. Guess they are caught off guard’

They eventually went to the get their lunch. All the high members of the realm joined them on the table. There was Wesley, he was another hunter like Garge, and was always desperate for a fight. He was a captain in a small platoon. Deacon, an elderly general, one who rescued Reaves and Garge twenty years ago leads the armies, maintains peace and handles all judicial functions. Vagh handles the exchequer of the people, levies taxes. Most of them are Reaves childhood friends.

Pearl joined them, she was the beauty of the realm and Reaves betrothal. Every man who could like Reaves, was jealous because he would marry Pearl.

As ate, hands filthy with grease and half drunk on rum a soldier rushed into the room and urgently spoke to Deacon’s ears.

‘Where are your manners soldier?! You are here in front of your King and you dare ignore asking his permission’ Wesley roared.

Reaves and Garge share a tiny smile, knowing full well this was what Wesley does best. But Deacon had lost all the color from his face. Everyone soon noticed that and urged him to speak.

‘Majesty, on the sea.’ He took a deep breath and continued ‘There’s ships inbound. Apparently hundreds of them.’

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#21 Breath Fire (Part 1)


(Since I missed a couple of days in my routine, and I have 10 posts left, I’ll make a long fictional fantasy story. This can be seen as a continuation of a previously written fiction:
Let’s Catch A Dragon.)

Fiction:

Garge hated this hall. It was too big. Too stark a reminder of the dark days of the past. Of the days when they walked as their True Form.

As Dragons.

They were proud. Egotistical. They thought of themselves as invincible. And when they lost, they were too few to even hold hostage. So they were left where they were. Discarded after conquer. Some women they took as hostages and slaves. After all, men liked to brag about their conquests. Garge’s sister was one those who taken. He was five at that time.

Now, twenty years later, fire lands were at peace. Subdued. But like always, pride returns. And so they returned to their own lands. To this colossal palace. Because of their King. Because of the son of the King who lost twenty years ago.

Because of the two lone warriors who had traveled far from their lands to capture dragons. They swore no one ordered them. They swore they were alone, no armies were marching behind them to battle. But their King saw this as an act of war.

So, after twenty years the Dragons were preparing for war.

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#20 Leaping


(I couldn’t write for the last two days and I cover this up now)

Fiction:

Ever heard the wind? Its a constant wheezing sound. You never realize wind can sound like this.

Standing near the edge, waiting for his turn to bungee jump, the wind was all she could hear. Her friends all around her were talking and trying to dissipate their anxiety and fear.

She didn’t care. She was scared. It was her first jump and though she wasn’t acrophobic but she was scared. And this jump was one of the highlights of the entire vacation to this adventure road trip.

The person before her jumped. She saw him going down, faster than a bullet it seemed. She could hear his scream full of fear and adrenaline and excitement. And then the line snapped and the line pulled him back up. Like a rubber.

Her turn. Lines were attached. She stood off the edge. Taking her time to jump. Breathing loudly. Suddenly the noise of wind was absent. Like her ears were deaf. But her heartbeat was LOUD!

She took a deep breath and jumped.

It took her three seconds for the line to stretch out. Three seconds when all she saw was..  Everything.

She could see, in her adrenaline honed vision, the distant birds flying, the tiny particles of dust in the air. The ground she was heading towards, all the different types of plants on that ground. She saw a tiny squirrel on one of the trees. And she was that the land was becoming bigger and coming closer.

Wasn’t she supposed to be pulled back up by now? But there was no pull. The ground was reaching up to her in a tremendous speed. The line was not pulling her up.

No snap?!

Ground loomed closer, as if ready to assimilate her.

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#19 Opposites


Fiction:

Oh look at that walk. If it wasn’t coming my way then it would have been really sexy. And deadly as hell.

The tigress smiled. She knew the deer. She knew he always did that. That is why she never hunted him. That is why she always let him go.

There he is. Just a leap away and she would have his throat in her jaws. And the thing is probably the deer wouldn’t fight back.

He would probably insist that if any tiger should take his life then it should be her.

He was infatuated with her. He a simple herbivore, was obsessed with her.

‘You know my mate could be here any minute. If he so much as glances at you he will pounce. You will die and we will feast over your flesh.’ She purred.

She expected him to surrender. She knew him, his obsession didn’t allow him to stand up to her. He has done that before. He would follow her like a puppy. Like a sheep. But she didn’t see this coming.

‘He would not catch me. You know he is getting slow. And have you any idea how old he is?’

She stopped dead in her tracks.

‘You could catch me. Or you could get tired chasing. But I’m not getting caught by that senile cat. You could try chasing me with him.’

He let that sink in for a minute, let her regain her balance and hit her again.

‘Or you could leave him. And come with me’

Tigress was speechless. She knew he liked her. But this… This was a proposal!

‘I would await you at the end of the valley tonight. If you are not there till morning then I will take my leave’

He turned around, slugging and dragging his feet. A few steps later he stopped and said ‘Maybe the next time I will fall for my species’

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#18 Murder


( Cliché

Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.)

Fiction:

Please say something other than murdering them.

Let’s murder them.

Oh god it was always like that. No other solution gave a permanent answer to the problem.Its not as if it would be the first time. It would definitely be the last time. Murder was perfect.

It was cliché too.

Gangsters like him always did that. When a cop interfered too much. When a politician asked for too much share in the profit. When a neighboring gang tried to enter their turf. Murder and dispose the body. Simple. Bloody. Efficient.

But now he wanted to try something else. Threatening would do no good. He learned it long time ago, you push people they will would event I all push back. And he would have to murder them to get them out of the way.

This time he wanted more than a temporary state of power. He wanted actual control. No one should try to lay a finger on him.

So he became one of the powerful. He became a politician himself. And then hr would make sure that all the other people are his friends. Not his foes.

He wouldn’t threaten. He wouldn’t murder. He wouldn’t coerce. He will persuade. He will make the commissioners and gang leaders his accomplice.

It would be a long time before this control is established. A long time before peace can be achieved. But he was willing to wait. Willing to try.

If nothing else, then there’s always murder.

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#17 Like The Character


Fiction:

The thing about novels is that they are full of characters. And the central character, the one who you root for, one whose love stories swell your heart and one whose death leaves you depraved is mostly one you can identify with.

All the central characters are like that. They always make the reader relate to them. Their habits, likes and dislikes always coincide with reader’s.

And that is what makes them likeable.

This has always been what the John’s mentor had taught him. Want to make the reader engrossed, make the character as ordinary as possible and then cover that familiarity with layers upon layers of pretentiousness.

And the reader will love the guy. But John decided not to take that route. He wanted something new and something unseen.

So he wrote his novel in unorthodox fashion. But by the time over months he wrote the novel, he changed. His friends first cheered his dedication to the novel, then pitied him as writing made him weaker. Eventually they despised him as he changed over time.

He became the character he wrote. He became a hater of the world. He became the murderer he wrote.

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#16 Season’s Beauties


Fiction:

Dressing up to be the best. The Elfins always love Christmas.

Because at this time of the year, their family did their very best. They cleaned their house, neatly arranged their wardrobes.

Wore their best clothes. Mother Elfin wore make-up. Did her hair properly. Very stylish and chic. Holidays always brought back her impulses and enthusiasm for fashion. The long lost enthusiasm.

Her two children also are showing the same knack. They loved Eve, they get to eat cakes and chocolates and opened toys.

And they loved how beautiful their church looked. Holidays always made the ordinary look spectacular.

Christmas means beauty, means family, means happiness.

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#15 Secret Santa


( Secret Santa

You get to choose one gift — no price restrictions — for any person you want. The caveat? You have to give it anonymously. What gift would you give, and to whom?)

Fiction:

It is Christmas. The happiest times of the year. Lights everywhere. People gathering together, in their loved ones homes. Everyone tries to be human.

Even vampires.

The Crow family too celebrated Christmas. Just because they suck human blood doesn’t mean they have no right to celebrate. People have broader minds. Today Gays are required to be celibate for a year so they can donate blood. With the speed of human evolvement, it would not surprising that one day vampires and humans can celebrate holidays together.

But Christmas requires gifts. And what better gift than a rare blood group. Like a O negative. Or something like that.

As Dave dressed up, as usual in his best black suit, his wardrobe full of similar suits, he could taste the rarities tonight. Entire Crow family is here. All the way from Alaska and Texas, everyone is here. Father Crow even invited his rivals, Sanchez tonight. Father was always like that around holidays. Almost human and kind.

But it was almost his time, he would soon choose his successor. And everyone knew it would be Dave to be new head of the family.

As he descended he met Ella, the youngest of Sanchez. Lovely and deadly as always she gave him a smile that would send even the impotent drooling. But Dave just answered her with another smile and they reached the dining hall. There was music in the house. But Father was no where to be found.

And suddenly there was a scream. Now in a vampire’s house, a scream is as unusual as a humans. No one screams, especially humans in the house. The sound was from the south end of the house.

Where Father had his room. Dave raced the other house members to the room.

Only find his youngest sister, Julia crying at the door. The room was full red, full of blood. And there sat his Father’s corpse.

Someone killed his Father. Someone made him the new head of Crows.

Someone gave him a Christmas gift. Only to make it look like he killed Father.

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#14 Motivation


Fiction:

When a crowd of about hundred sit awaiting to absorb every spoken word, it is really easy. All it takes is a word to motivate them. Some more words, meticulously chosen to elevate the sociopath to serial killer.

She did that. Chased the killers.

She came to the stage. She only losers in front of her. Losers who never sought to achieve anything. Who whined and made excuses. Ordinary people. Worthless people. If she could she would kill and eat those losers.

She has done that before.

Yet she put her best smile and began speaking. She spoke of the audience’s common troubles. Divorce. Mortgage. Depths. Depression. And so on and so forth.

She spoke with perfect empathy. She never blamed the audience. Yet she showed them their mistakes. People loved that. She kept speaking. Once in a while she picked people from the crowd and spoke with them.

So boring this was.

She sensed a predator halfway through. Someone like her. Somewhere in the back. Hidden yet easy to spot. He wore a black fennel shirt. Looked like a loser, just like the crowd.

She maintained her eye contact with him for enough time to make him aware. She knows.

As she finished her speech and went backstage she awaited him. If he was like her he would come. And she would play with him. Play with him before she killed him.

How would it be this time? Slicing his throat? Strangulation? Stabbing? She didn’t have her gun so no shooting.

As she thought of more intimate ways to play and kill she went to pee.

What she didn’t realize is there was a serial bomber active.

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#13 Its The Holidays


Fiction:

December is always tough. Not because its the end of the year or because its the most expensive month of the year.

Its because it is so cold. Yes that was the only concern of the homeless. With so many people helping out, giving the homeless food and blankets to keep themselves warm.

But when has some worn out blankets a replacement for a roof above your head?

Eat some cold food. Go through the thrash. Get any job you can get. Be under scrutiny from every store owner.

Life is a cold bitch. And December is a stark reminder of that.

George sat near a drum which had fire building inside it. He did this every night. And every morning. Only way to keep his hands warm. And he was the big bad wolf around the abandoned mall. No one even tried talking to this guy. Rumors were that he is a murderer on the run. Vicious murderer. So hence the only one who get to warm his hands near the fire was him. Others built their own fires. They sat close by, in circles and happy, under the circumstances.

That night a girl drifted towards his fire. He shot her a look that would petrify the bravest. She hesitated but came closer.

She was in her teens he could see. A runny nose. Chirped lips. Mess of a hair and clothes too big for someone double her size.

‘Hi’ she tried. He ignored.

‘There were too many people around the other fires. I couldn’t get any heat from the hearth. Mind if I sit here for the time being?’

She waited a good five minutes for his reply. He didn’t react at all. He was a loner. This was his fire. He built it. He kindles it. Only he keeps himself warm. He kept his eyes to the fire. His hands palm faced to the fire.

As she turned, he said ‘Sure. Its the holidays’.

Holiday season are more than gifts and decorating.

(Post inspired by: LoudThoughtsVoicedOut’s The Santa Claus Theory )

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#12 On a really Bad Day


Fiction in less than ten sentences:

image
That's my photo, when i was two!

On a really bad day, sometimes you just need a smile.

A smile which says there are things to be happy for.

Even if that thing is air which being elusive to grab in hand.

Or a toy which you are too young to play with, yet it tastes really well.

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#11 Paint The Picture


Fiction:

Being an painter sucks. No one pays. Everyone takes your talent for granted. Everyone asks you what you do for a living. And people think that it is easy. No one realizes that art needs inspiration, but that should be something worth painting.

He sat on marine drive. Offered couples to get their sketch drawn. Offered his services. When he had no customers he looked at the sun and sighed. Sunset was always his darling. His first love. Only love.

A couple approached him. They wanted to get their sketch done.

Did I mention about his…?

He drew. He drew them like he saw. The guy for a weakling, thin ragamuffin. The girl he drew as a princess. Beautiful, kind and just by looking at her you could feel her goodness. But in reality, he looked like a prince. But she looked destitute.

They(he) stormed off in anger. 

He looked back to the sun again. But before the inspiration could hit him, another couple wanted their sketch. This was different.

He drew the girl as a vampire. Blood dripping from her fangs, and wearing more diamond than was possible. The guy he drew looked close to death. But guy looked at the same time in ecstasy.

The girl liked the sketch. Guy first refused that sketch was good, but in his eyes one could see surge of excitement.

They(he) paid graciously.

As he sat and gazed at the sun again he looked at two couples sitting near by in his right.

First couple, the guy was angry. That was obvious, but behind the veil he was in pain. God, such pain he was hiding. The girl was crying. Really and inside too. They were fed up, tried so much but they could not make it work. He felt bad for the couple. For they were really good souls. Just not good for each other.

Second couple were the same. Broken, in agony from inside. But they took selfies by the dozen. Girl pretended to look happy, guy was stupidly believing that things were okay.

Suddenly he thought, what would happen if the two couples exchanged partners. And in that moment he realized that their soul mates sat next to each other, but none were aware.

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#10 Depression.com


Fiction:

She hated the cafe. It was so full of people. People with great lives, affluent jobs and loving partners. Sometimes they come in with their children.

Children were the worse. She wanted children. But none of her boyfriends wanted to have one with her. They all cheated on her. And she knew she had it coming.

She was the one who was at fault. Something in her was lacking. That’s why her boyfriends looked elsewhere for their pleasure. That’s why her mother severed ties with her. There was something wrong with her.

She looked at the computer screen in front of her. She thought about what will happen when she bust her head into it. Figures nothing will happen, her head is not strong enough.

But she needed to use the internet. She didn’t have one at home, she couldn’t afford it. She needed a job. Antidepressants were expensive and she was broke.

As she logged in, a pop up ad appeared on the bottom of the screen. She closed it. She opened another tab and the ad appeared on the left of screen. She closed it again. This went on for like five six times. Eventually her frustration took over and shouted ‘Why don’t you fucking close down?!’

Everyone in the cafe looked at her in disgust. The small child seemed to be asking his mom what was the f word. She quickly mouthed an apology and resumed her work. The ad was insistent. It appeared again and again. Eventually she stopped closing the ad.

But she couldn’t help but read the ad. As usual it was about dating. Dating she no longer looked for. She hated it now. No one understood her. No one valued her. Must be her blame.

She eventually gave into curiosity and actually read the ad. It was an different kind of dating.

It was for those people who are not happy. Those who find fault in most things, the pessimists. The remorseful. The depressed.

And the website was catchy itself. Depression.com.

She found that there were about 5 million people profiles on the site. Now that got her interest.

She clicked the ad. And looked into the site. It was amazing. She loved it. Full of people who openly admit they are depressed. That they have undergone therapy. They are on drugs. And an expert session on how to date a depressed person.

She signed in. And with new toy, she quickly forgot about her imminent bankruptcy. She went through potential dates. Spoke with a few of them. She loved this.

But she didn’t know. That the site was a perfect playground for predators.

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#9 Letting It Go


Fiction:

He could feel the pressure emitting from her. Her shoulders shook a bit. She walked with hands hugging her body, head down and frowning.

He knew as she walked towards him that something was very wrong. More than usual. More than the everyday upsets.

She talked. Told him about her blasted interview. The interview in which interviewer was her ex-boyfriend. And how at the end when he took it personal. How he demeaned her. Threw her out of the room. Accompanied her to the elevator all the while heckling her. Every personal fight they had over the years. Every sentence uttered was carefully chosen to hurt her, in all the right places.

She just made it out of the elevator. She never cries. She gets angry. She fights. She is selfish at times, a total bitch. But who isn’t. In this world everyone’s hurt one time or the other. And now she was humiliated in front of as many strangers as possible.

She never cried when she broke up. She never cried. She knew how to mask her emotions. Never showed the world she is upset. But now her face was changing.

Her eyes was wet. Just slightly more than usual. The specs she wore made it difficult to see her eyes properly. But just barely when he really looked he knew the tears are coming.

And they came. Big tears. One. Two. Three. All in less than a second. And she realized she was crying and she stopped talking. Just for a second. Then she fell. He barely held her just before she fell on the floor. He held her when she cried.

When she shook. And by the time she stopped she was asleep. He held her. Afraid of letting her go because she will get more upset. Looking at this episode just as a weakness.

But he was happy. Because maybe now she will let it go.

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#8 Betrayal


Fiction:

He lay gasping for breath. Water kept dripping from his face, hair all wet and stuck to his face. Cold ice water that rolled down on his bidy, his back, sending shivers across his body. Making it more difficult to breathe. And they started their inquisition again. Gathering their information which will be filtered across their grapevine.

He said all he could, more often repeating stuff which he had said before, stuff which was false. All he could say from his quivering lips and tremulous voice. Past the time. Eventually today’s session will end, and as his information will be less valuable he will too be less valuable. Hanging is imminent.

And he will embrace it like a old lover.

It was not always like this. Once he was a soldier. Once he was a friend. A loved one, but was the reckless one.

He played with fire all too much. The more exciting it got, more he wanted it the next time. He liked dangerous. Longed for danger. And that killed his collegues.

Somehow the more he looked back the more suicidal the mission looked like. Hell, that must be why he accepted it. That is why he was assigned with people like him. The ones who played with fire too much. And that must be why there was, is no rescue attempt.

Someone must have made a deal. Someone betrayed him. And he had no regrets now. He had it coming. He only wanted to know who betrayed him.

Which one of the friends that he ate with, he slept with, he fought with, betrayed him. And it hurts. This betrayal. And what hurts even more is the fact that he will never know who was the one responsible.

But that he has to let go. As the end is coming and when it does he will be ecstatic.

Because he liked danger. And death will be the ultimate reward.

#7 Last Train


Fiction:

What’s the name? Crude?! That’s messed up. What’s your story? You fell. Okay.

Next. What’s your name? Sophi. You are awfully young. Your story? Female foeticide. Stupid! What’s wrong with this world.

That world, she corrected himself. That world. Past. She left that world fifteen years ago. Fifteen years which seem like fifteen million years. That long it has been. And only way to keep track of passage of time is because of these fresh batch of people.

Fresh batch of dead people. Dead people who come in thousands everyday.

Each with a different story. Fell off a building. Female foeticide. Bomb blast. Electrocuted. And each more gruesome than last. With the people’s souls still tingly with last few moments of life in them. Their agonies. Pain and screams contorting their faces.

A person with weaker heart would have fallen on the ground and sobbed. An alive person at least.

She was not alive. And her heart?! She would laughed at that if she knew how to. Remembered to. So when she boarded the train fifteen years ago, looking like these souls, agonized and sorrowful, she got a job offer. Another person had the job which does now.

She has to conduct the train of dead. Ask souls about their death. Their names and match it with list of incoming dead. Any body extra was probably an intruder trying to steal souls. Or get revenge. Or something superficial.

Death changes one’s perspective. Revenge, stealing seems like such paltry things. Everyone will end up here. Why bother.

She took the job. On one condition.

And she went to next booth.

Name? Hades?! She looked up. He is Hades. Her employer. One who made a deal with. He looked the same. Not a day older. Full in black. Tall and deadly handsome.

Deadly, really deadly.

He sat there with a new girl. Really hot girl. His type. New secretary maybe.

‘My lord?’

‘My dedicated worker. I think this train should be your last. You fulfilled your contract. I will go and find some other soul to do the duties. ‘

And with that he stood and walked out, closing the door on his way out. And the full force of what he said dawned on her.

There she stood, in her last train completing her contract. Means the condition was satiated.  That means…. The girl who looked hot was…. Was, IS her daughter.

(Post idea was from this fiction Post: Upstanding Citizens)

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#6 (Over) Connecting


Fiction:

Like!

Share!

Love it!

Hate it!

Comment!

Thrash!

Being yourself(anonymously).

That’s what Steve did. Entire day. Facebook on one tab, instagram on other. Twitter on his phone. YouTube on his computer.

Oh, new selfie by that hot girl: like!
Oh, picture with her boyfriend: Hate!

Ex girlfriend uploaded a new song which she covered. Thrash!(anonymously)

Cute baby picture: Hate! Small creatures only make life miserable. His best friend had a baby with his girlfriend. Now its all baby baby photos. Hate the little Satan’s!!

I have an amazing life! I could get whatever I want. Everything is right here. Everything!

Post about a guy coming out about his homosexuality. Thrash. Stupid people and their worries.

Steve sat there with three packs of wafers and one bottle of coke. Litter all around him, around his couch.

Suddenly net dies. And so does Steve.

What to do now?

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#5 Ruling The World!


( Countdown

‘Tis the season for suspense-building lists.)

Flash Fiction:

Kanja sat in the interrogation room with a paper and pen for his confession. His lawyer had a talk with him. They laid out a stratagem.

Kanja wrote this:

1. Find the guy who actually committed the murder
2. Kill him. Or if killer is a girl, marry her.
3. Kill the police inspector who captured me.
4. Kill Commissioner.
5. Kill the President.
6. Make Teen Patti National Game.
7. Launch Nuclear Weapons.
8. Rule the world!!!

He ended up in the mental asylum.

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#4 Eureka!


Fiction:

Nothing was coming up!

He sighed, frustrated as he prepared his bathtub.

Two years it has been since he last wrote a story. Two years. His driest spell yet. It was not as if he couldn’t get ideas, they were a dime a dozen.

But none that were absolutely amazing. None were even close to his previous movies. All three of his previous movies were blockbusters, giving him a national award each.

He became the most famous screenwriter of industry, every producer wanted him. Every actor wanted to act on his play, and every reporter wanted to know what goes on in his mind.

But that was two years ago. Every idea that lit up in his mind, he himself took it apart. Nothing was good enough.

So in desperation he did things. He got drunk, a lot. More often that ended up with him landing in an unknown part of town with a girl whose name he couldn’t recall.

He got high a lot. That ended up with a overdose case which could have killed him. He still thanks God that he was nearby a hospital. Never again he touched drugs.

He read novels. Attended plays. For some inspiration. Something that could satisfy his own critic.

Eventually he hosted parties. Not for booze, he never touched it. The wine he held in his hand but never drank. He talked to the guest. All of the guest.

He asked them about their lives. Their loves, their dislikes. Their history, their dreams and their fears. Everything that he could scratch off them he did.

That made him a lot more popular. Everyone gave him a good time, everyone liked him. Once in a party he was a bigger cynosure then all the actresses.

But nothing made sense. Now he wanted an out. He had enough money to settle down. He could not work his entire life and still his children would have enough. He was thinking of going to some remote place, nearby a beach and lived there.

Nothing to do. Relaxation for rest of his life. His Elysium.

Dreaming of what and how his house will look like, he noticed the ripples produced by his body in the bathtub. He looked closely.

Saw the ripple getting weaker the more distance it traveled. And saw little water spilling out of the tub.

And click!!

He got an idea. Perfect idea. He got up, dashed out of his bathroom stark naked, yelling ‘Eureka! Eureka!’

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#3 Silhouettes


Fiction:

He kissed her!

It had been over two hours ago, after the kiss he gave his conceited smile and vanished, leaving Mandy on the roof alone, cold and yet warm all over.

Mandy couldn’t sleep, rethinking about the kiss, what it meant. Everyone knew she liked Hank, now Hank kissed her. This is what she wanted for as long as she could remember. It felt dreamy, and every two minutes she kept musing over it, twirling her hair around fingers and blushing.

An hour more she fidgeted over the kiss. Then she remembered where she was. Why she was here and who else was here with her.

Her grandfather had been keeping I’ll for months now. It was probably time he found peace and left his failing body. But he endured. And he had every reason to endure.

Everyday his lawyer sat with him in the ICU room, isolated and mostly discussing the Will. The will that dictates what will happen to the dynasty.

The 3 billion dollar dynasty.

Everyone of the family and descendants arrived a week ago when the butler cried rapidly falling health. A week they sat under one roof, if hospital and the house and talked.

But make no mistake everyone wanted the highest portion of the pie available. They all hated each other, as siblings do when money is involved.

And Hank was the husband of elder sister, Gretchen. Gretchen was the second elder sibling with Tom being the eldest and Wayne being the third. And Mandy the youngest. And each had their own masks, they each played their parts in the ill health of grandfather.

But history aside they all wanted the same thing: Money.

And Mandy wanted Hank too, childishly and foolishly. She realized that this was a coy on his part. There have been many of those in the house, anything to get more.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Butler’s call about the inevitable.

***

The funeral was as big as this town could see.  And after every one of the sibling and cousin and who not paid their respects only the four siblings were left in the church. 

Gretchen had been crying through the entire ceremony. Tom was blank as usual. And Wayne wanted to cry. Mandy stood near grandfather.

She realized with a start that her three siblings were standing close by. Gretchen wasn’t crying anymore, the water was for the audience only. No one spoke for a while.

Tom surprised everyone by saying ‘I loved him. And I’ll miss him. He was our Father, our Mother. Our everything.’

Mandy noticed a tear rolling down his left cheek. He didn’t wipe it out.
And Gretchen swallowed. Mandy had a lump in her throat too. She never expected Tom to be the one to cry first. He was the strength, resolve. Dams broke and they all cried again.

Gretchen sobbed with her head buried in Tom’s shoulder, Mandy and Wayne held each other afraid to let go because they feared their knees will buckle.

This time it wasn’t for the audience. It was real, as real as they could be. They loved him. And with him gone they will miss him. They knew what was coming, the will had to be read. The power struggle was coming.

But now they terribly missed him. Now their silhouettes portrayed their true selves.

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#2 Lets Catch A Dragon


Fiction:

‘You want to do what Jere?!’ Keri shouted.

Jere knew this was coming. They had traveled so long on their journey because Keri trusted him. Because keri trusted his plan, even if it was unmentioned.

Now when they have traveled half way around the world and they have landed on this mysterious land far from their homeland Jere had to confide in Keri.

And that is the worst part. He had a confidence that this is his destiny. Everything’s he has done in his life has led up to this land.

Has led up to land of Dragons!

Now here he had to convince his best friend, his brother and only friend that his plan was going to work.

‘Yes we are here to catch a dragon. Don’t you see that this is the only way to win the war back home. War on a dragon backs. And you are here, might as well do it.’

Keri needed a lot of pursuing. An entire day later he went from blatant refusal to hesitation. Eventually he agreed to go ahead with the plan, only if Jere gave him half of whatever money he had back home.

Jere disappointed, understood that too late his best friend was only after the riches.

They ate and went into the land. Keri had no clue about the land. But Jere did.

The land was an empire. An empire which was ruled by one family for the last two thousand years. No one could conquer it.

Maybe because the land was so remote. But the rumors was dragons defend the empire.

And if only one of such dragon could be captured. Brought back to homeland and unleashed on the enemy. Fires and destruction all the way. And Jere would be the hero.

Jere The Dragon Catcher!

He liked the sound of that. That is what he kept on telling himself every time his resolve flagged. A Day of walking on foot they reached a village. Village surrounded by scorched earth.

Keri now believed in dragons, walking on burned earth makes you believe. But they have not yet spotted a single dragon.

They could spot villagers down the valley, minding their business. But they were strange. All of them were tall. Really tall. And from far it was obvious that they were bred warriors. They carried weapons on them.

But no dragon.

They scanned the village valley for hours, trying to gauge what they villagers do, what they eat. There were no farms and no market was discernable.

‘Say Jere where are those winged creatures?’

Jere was thinking the same when they heard some flapping noise. Noise of wings. BIG wings from the sound of them.

From the left they saw huge birds flying towards the village. Three of them were flying towards the village.

Too far to descry any physical features other than color: all of them were black. And they descended towards the village.

Jere’s heart leaped up his throat. Dragons were here to pillage the village. And their descend was as terrifying as it was graceful and swift. One moment they were up next they had almost on the village.

And the next they were three tall humans.

(Post inspired by Cloud Dragons)

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#1 Drink’s the Father


Fiction:

Her eyes were darting, always returning back to the same shelf on her left. She licked her lips, said “Andrew get me that sauce”.

Another lick of her lips. Andrew knew what was going on. He had anticipated it.

They were in the mall, holiday shopping it is. And the worse time of the year for his mom.

Holidays meant happiness, ideally. But for his mom they were cooking and cleaning and every other household chore that needs to be done so that the holidays all in all becomes perfect.

And the holidays were also the time when He left. His father. Her husband. Two years ago, no warning, no fights nothing. And till today no phone call or any message. Andrew was 11 then.

Mom cried and cried. Then she shouted and threw his stuff out of the house. Then she picked up whiskey. And she drank till she was peeing whiskey and drank more with arms she cut herself. Andrew and his sister Sophia cowed whenever she went into a rampage in the house. He was glad that the day mother cut herself, Sophia was not at home. Somebody called the authorities, it was not Andrew.

Large amount of anonymous alcoholics and anti-depressants later she came back. Sophia cried herself to sleep every night, Andrew used to hold her while she slept. And now while mother is almost normal the holidays are here. And they are standing in the mall with alcohol on the shelf to the left.

Mother pulls herself together and moves forward. They shop, Andrew pleading for every new toy he sees, mother persuading him to buy it the next time he comes there. But he could see her hustle. She wants to leave and drive home and have coffee, have this mall as far behind as possible. So he stops pleading eventually.

Sophia is not at home, at some of her friends place. Its snowing outside, driveway is piled up with snow. They get inside the home, mother whining about having to clean the driveway after dinner. Leaves the shopping bags on the kitchen and just  drops on the couch.

Unsure of what to do, Andrew turns on the TV. They watch a couple of minutes while mother is drinking water, like three bottles of water. She is keeping her hands busy, with remote or with her hair or with her sweater. Anything to keep her mind off.

Sophia is about to be home any minute now, its almost 7 pm. Mother has fallen asleep on the couch. Andrew wakes her up with a coffee.

“You know how to make coffee?”

“Yeah I watched you make them. You were asleep and tired so I made one for you. And no mom, I did not drink it”

She smiled. And Andrew recalled her old smile. There was just a hint of that old smile and laughter now. But it was there.

“Andrew!!” Sophia shouted from the driveway, “come here and help me clean it up.”

Mother looked perplexed, Andrew gave a loop sided smile and said “I may have ordered her to clean the snow. She refused. We had to have a compromise.”

He wore his gloves and opened the door, and there was Sophia with a big fistful of snow in her hands. She threw it at his face.

Mother gasped. Andrew gasped. Sophia laughed and bolted outside.

Andrew ran after her. Mother sighed suddenly remembering that they are just children yet. For now.

(Post inspired by reading Candid Kay’s blog post: Christmas tree left of centre)

30 Days 30 Fictions


When I started this blog, I did it to improve my creative writing.

Now my exams are finished and I have a month of free time, I intend to make use of it.

So in the coming thirty days, starting from tomorrow I will write a fictional story each day and publish it.

I think I can come up with a fiction a day!

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