In Light of His Consummation

He clambered toward the ocean with one fiery tentacle torch to light the way.

“We all know he’s going to set himself on fire one day.”

“At least, he’s ambitious.”

Leroy had a dangerous fascination with land life, specifically fire.

We tried to warn him that it wasn’t safe, but he took to the surface nightly and made his way onto the pier.

He found items the humans left behind such as tour flyers, food containers, and plastic bags. He hoarded them away, buried in the sand near the rocks below the dock, except for the silly little top hat he insisted on wearing.

Leroy continued to scour for the one last thing he needed to perform his amazing feat. Finally, one evening he found a matchbook. He called us all to the surface to witness his debut.

The Fantastic Leroy Sea Keeper of the Flame was about to create fire like no other sea creature had done before him.

He piled high all the flammable objects he had collected into a large mountain. Then with everyone watching, he struck a match.

We were in awe of the spark. He tossed it onto the pile, and it began to burn. Leroy was so excited and overwhelmed; the flames we saw reflecting in his large eyes mesmerized him. He didn’t seem to notice the fire slowly crawling toward him or hear our shouts of concern.

When the fire reached his outstretched tentacle, he jumped high into the air causing his top hat to tumble into the inferno.

He clambered toward the ocean with one fiery tentacle torch to light the way.

The water doused his singed pride and he sunk into the deep blue.

The next evening we returned. Sadly, The Fantastic Leroy Sea Keeper of the Flame sacrificed his favorite spot to the out-of-control pyre.

Leroy never ventured to the surface again.

– Written for Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 36, though I missed the deadline. First sentence prompt was “We all know he’s going to set himself on fire one day,” and Photo Prompt combo. WC 300

In Light of His Consummation

The Guy On The Harley

He is a great big brother, always looking out for me.

He skimmed some chunky milk off of the top of what he poured into his glass and sniffed his finger.

I slid my chair up to the table and put cereal in my bowl.

He made a disgusted face. “Damn,” he said and sighed tossing the whole glass into the sink. “You’re gonna have to eat it dry,” he told me. I frowned.

“You know mom won’t be home for a while, right?” He asked.

I looked up at him and tilted my head to the side. “Again?” I questioned.

“She took off with the guy on the Harley.” He matter-of-factly informed me.

That’s the thing about Beau, he doesn’t sugar-coat anything. He is a great big brother, always looking out for me. I am 8 and he is 15, but he doesn’t make me feel bad and he always tells it like it is.

He is not like mom.

– Written for Ad Hoc Fiction weekly contest. Word Prompt was “skim.” WC 150
Photo from PublicDomainPictures.net.

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All Who Fly Are Not Ducks

All in a row, they stretched their little wings as far as they would reach.

“Come on my little ducklings, field trip today,” Ms. Avion said.

The children fell into a single-file line, just as they had practiced. They have been looking forward to this day since school began.

The baseball stadium was chosen for the open space they would need to accelerate.

They scrambled to their places and chattered nervously.

“Benji, please demonstrate,” She instructed the older student.

They watched, ready for their turns.

“Now you try.” She said while spreading her own wings.

All in a row, they stretched their little wings as far as they would reach.

She smiled as she watched each one, in turn, gather speed and begin their ascension.

– Written for Microcosms (15). Prompts were Duckling/Baseball Stadium/Fantasy. WC 110

The Mirror

A bright flash of purple, then red and I saw nothing at all.

What is on the surface isn’t always reality.

The mirror was supposed to have the power to show us who we really were.

Hesitantly, I invoked its curse. “Who am I? Show me what lies beneath the surface. Show me what I am afraid to see. I am ready to behold and accept what’s hidden within.” I read out loud from the crinkled paper the seer had given to me.

A bright flash of purple, then red and I saw nothing at all. I trembled with fear for my lack of sight. In the darkness, I heard the mirror shatter.

– Written for Splickety’s Progeny Nano Contest. Prompt was the concept of Identity. WC 100
Photo by Darkday.

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The Beginning Of The End

From my vantage point, it looked as though the orange sky was a flowing continuation of the molten lava wriggling and writhing its way toward freedom, spreading itself across the heavens.

So this is how the end begins, I thought, with a deafening explosion followed by a slow expansion of terrifying beauty.

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– Written for Shapeshifting 13 (#48). Color Orange and Photo Prompt. WC 52. Photo by Nick Selway and CJ Kale

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How To Experience Transformation

I drew a glyph on the basement floor, lit four candles and positioned them. I sat in the middle, closed my eyes, and said the chant. I waited for the transformation.

Nothing.

I opened the how-to guide.

Damnit! I need another candle.

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– Written for YeahWrite.me Weekly Writing Challenge 260 question prompt. WC 42. Photo from torange.biz.

The Ritual

Darkness surrounded her along with all manner of foreboding sounds.

The Shaman told her the ritual would rid her of the dark spirits clinging to her aura. So, she drank the bitter liquid, put on the headdress and repeated the incantation. He took her hand and ran a sharp blade across her palm then squeezed her clenched fist causing blood to drip into the fire. The flames surged. Heat and smoke engulfed them.

The smoke cleared and she regained her bearings. She realized she was standing ten feet away looking at her body sprawled beside the Shaman’s fire.

“If you outrun the spirits by dawn, you will be free.” He spoke loudly then laughed an eerie sound that filled her mind.

His voice mingled with the shrieking specters to which she’d grown accustomed. She pressed her hands hard against her ears. It never helped, as the screams seemed to come from within. The Shaman’s words rang in her head and she felt the overwhelming need to run though she didn’t know to where.

She ran.

Darkness surrounded her along with all manner of foreboding sounds. She contemplated giving up. Her legs burned and her feet were heavy, but she pushed on. She wandered the woods all night.

She reached a stream. Leaves and twigs decorated her hair. She had mud on her knees, scratches on her arms and dried blood on her face. A combination of various animal bones and two large white feathers set atop for ears made up the ghoulish rabbit headdress she still wore.

Staring up at the jagged splinters of sunlight cutting through the clouds, she realized the Shaman’s camp was near. She was exhausted, yet hopeful. Her weary legs gave out and she fell to the ground as she approached the remnants of the fire. She closed her eyes.

She awoke and noticed there was no hint of warmth in the fire pit as if not used in quite some time, or any sign of the Shaman. She briefly considered the whole thing was a dream until she saw the rabbit headdress made of animal bones staring up at her with empty sockets.

– Written for The Angry Hourglass: Flash Frenzy Round 101 Photo Prompt. WC 348
Photo by Ashwin Rao.

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