Flash Fiction Friday 003 – Speed Demon

High above the desert, there lurks a demon. This demon preys on those who try to out run it.

High above the Mojave Desert, the test pilot was being chased by a demon. He and the other test pilots all knew that a demon lived up in that bright, blue sky. They all just assumed that they were chasing it, not the other way around. Who would have thought that the sound barrier was guarded by a malicious spirit?

The Bell X-1 was not very maneuverable. She was built for one purpose and that was to go fast. Going fast was all that the pilot could do now that he looked out the side of the cockpit and saw the black form racing alongside his plane. A smokey claw reached out towards the plane, grasping at its wing as the pilot willed her to fly faster.

Mach .8

The only hope he had was to try and outrun this demon. How was he going to do that though? How does a person outrun a speed demon?

Mach .85

The gauges continued to inch further ahead. The desert floor was a blur beneath him. God, he was really burning up the speedometer. It didn’t matter, though. The demon had managed to grab a hold of his wing and hold on to his bird, causing her to shimmy and shake wildly.

Mach .9

It was all the pilot could do to hold her steady. The poor plane continued to shimmy as the demon crawled its way from wing towards the canopy. Just a little further to go, and hopefully he would be able to shake this thing off.

Mach .95

Red eyes stared through the canopy at him. Despite the speed, the demon clung on and looked at the contender with malice and contempt.

Mach .97

A shadowy hand passed through the canopy and reached out towards the pilot. He felt the white-hot burn in his side as the claw gripped him, but he couldn’t tell if it was the demon or the cracked ribs he was flying with. If it was the ribs…well…he didn’t let those stop him from taking off, he’d be damned if he’d let them stop him from beating this demon.

Mach .99

A dry cackle erupted in the cockpit. A second clawed hand reached out towards the pilot’s face, easily engulfing his head. His breathing became short and his head began to swim. So close…he was so close.

An explosion rang out on the ground below, the force of it causing the bystanders to shiver with the implication. There was nothing but static on the portable radio that they had set up. Another pilot lost….

Just then, a crackle was heard from the radio. After a few seconds, it was followed by another crackle and a pop. At last, the voice of Chuck Yeager came across, reading a speed of Mach 1. Cries of joy flew from the lips of the bystanders.

High above them, Yeager thought of those last several minutes. He had just managed to punch his plane through the sound barrier. As the boom of breaking the sound barrier exploded below, the demon lost its grip on the Bell X-1 and slid off. Yeager could see it attempt to catch him again, but its monstrous size had already shrunk greatly. Never again would this particular demon pose a threat to him or his fellow pilots.

Of course, he knew better to include this in his final report. Instead, the sheer velocity caused him to black out from a lack of oxygen, but that was the official report. Anyone who had ever tested new equipment knew that more demons were lurking out there, waiting for their chance to strike until they get beaten just like the sound demon.

 

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Flash Fiction Friday 002 – Knowledge is Strength

This week’s flash fiction looks at a world where knowledge and strength go hand in hand.

Master Rotenaphon sat atop his pillar, his large forearms resting on crossed legs. Six shelves were cut into the side of the pillar, and each shelf was filled with scrolls of various thickness. Those scrolls alone were proof of Rotenaphon’s prowess. Years of study and work went into gathering all that knowledge displayed within the pillar.

A potential student was brought within the room to stand before the pillar. The student’s jaw clenched and his shoulders shook slightly at the sight of the pillar. There was nothing else within the room to compete for his gaze. All the young man could do was let his eyes travel up the pillar, past each shelf, with growing apprehension before finally setting on the master himself.

“So,” Rotenaphon began. “You wish to learn of the philosophy of nothingness?” The master punctuated his question by flexing biceps the size of melons. “Well then, I hope you are properly prepared, otherwise you shall only learn the philosophy of pain!”

The fight was over quickly. Rotenaphon sprung from his pillar with lightning speed. Before the potential student was aware of what was going on, he was balled up on the ground and staring at the ceiling. Within minutes, the student was on his way out the door.

At this rate, he was never going to be able to learn anything beyond the basic education. Maybe he should just try an easier teacher, at least until he learned how to fight. Until then, he was never going to be able to win any lessons.

 

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Flash Fiction Friday 001 – The Witch’s Apprentice

“A sprinkle of sunflower and a dash of glitter. Add a pinch of rose petal and bake over a low heat for three hours. Let cool for about five minutes and top with cinnamon.”

“And that will give me a love potion?” Gina looked up at Myrtle with an expectant gaze.

“Oh no dear child.” Myrtle smile gently at the young girl. “That is just a nice table topper that also smells really nice. Love cannot be made in a potion. Now help old Myrtle by cleaning up. I feel a nap coming on.”

Gina let her head fall with a sigh as the older woman made her way out of the room. Picking up a rag, she began to wipe down the kitchen counter. She had been apprenticing with Myrtle for six months now but had not learned a single useful spell. What was the point of training with the village witch if she could not even get a simple love potion?

Instead, she had spent all her time gathering plants, grinding various things into powders, and doing all the housework. And while she worked, Myrtle would nap or tell her she was sweeping wrong. It was so unfair. Gina paused from her wiping to glare at the door to Myrtle’s room.

On the other side of the door, Myrtle hustled about. The bedroom was a large space that was dominated by bookshelves. On the shelves where an assortment of books and curios. The bed rested in a corner, tucked out of the way, while the exterior wall held a fireplace. The embers glowed brightly beneath as large cauldron.

It was the cauldron that held Myrtle’s attention. She moved back and forth from know bookshelf to another, snatching items to drop them into the steaming brew. After the last ingredient was added, Myrtle gave the concoction one final stir and dipped a cup into the mix. She moved towards the door and placed an ear against it, hearing nothing on the other side.

That lazy girl. Then again, Myrtle would probably be just as lazy all things considered. She drank the contents of the cup with a single gulp. A shiver ran up her spine as she felt a renewed burst of energy. It was easy to for Gina to be lazy when her spirit was being siphoned off for a greater purpose.

 

Remember to follow this blog for more stories and musings on storytelling. Like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter. We also have our quarterly newsletter you can sign up for with the link on the sidebar. Sign up for exclusive short stories and news about our projects. And remember, I mustache you to stay fantastical.