Photo credit: Rachel Lyra Hospodar
Following a new lead, Sharl swept through the shadows, weapon in each hand, unlocking spell readied. She growled, itching to confront him at last.
The rusty door stood half-open. A trap, or she was too late. She squeezed in, immediately leaping to one side.
No movement. No sound. Only that familiar stench. They’d been there.
She risked a finger-light. Empty. Blood stains, yes, but not enough. No… parts left behind.
Where there was no body, there was hope.
She’d find him. If he couldn’t produce her brother, alive and whole, he’d beg for a quick death.
He wouldn’t get one.
Word count: 100. Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. Thanks to our tireless hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who also provided the original prompt photo, below. Click on the link to write your own story or poem of up to 100 words, and to read the other entries!
Sorry for going a bit gruesome this week. I blame being down off and on for six days with stomach flu, or possibly food poisoning. At one point I thought I had a bad case of Alien about to burst through my stomach, but apparently my immune system is strong enough to kill an alien egg. Go natural defenses!
Photo © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields