Revolution

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Fantasy Realm
My first attempt at flash fiction.

Submitted: October 13, 2018

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Submitted: October 12, 2018

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Revolution

They had slain the beast.

"Triumph,“ shouted Rose, and she grabbed his shoulder and forced him near her. They kissed as she held her crossbow out to the side and steam rose from the blood of the red dragon’s corpse beside them. After their lips parted Rose handed him her weapon, smiled and leaped onto the husk of the dead beast. Taking a knife from her belt she gouged the center of its breast and tore a deep gorrey hole down its length before plunging her hand into the gore and rooting around until she brought out her prize, the dragon’s heart.

She held it aloft, The sky above the hilltop paled against the bloody red of the heart.

"Now we possess a great weapon. One that will help us to shatter the Tull armies!,“ She paused taking in each of the weary faces of her cohort watching her with tired but triumphant eyes. "Emulans will rule the world again. With this,“ She held the dripping, still-beating heart up even higher, "Emulans will wrest power from the Tull and destroy all who stand against us!"

The small group of warriors cheered and rushed forward. All but him. The sweet taste of her lips he savored but her words somehow rang atonal in his ear. How many would have to die before she had her wish? Around them lay more corpses than merely the dragon's scattered about on the hilltop and near the entrance to the Dragon’s lair. 12 of the fighters had fallen to bring down the great red. What act of slaughter would the Tull do in response to retake the throne some gray future?

As they lifted her up, chanting the credo of Emule, she laughed and continued to clutch her magical prize, now turned to a deadly weapon of revolution. They marched eastward, away from the lair, toward the hill’s edge and the heavy sound of their revelry peetered to a dull whisper until they descended over the ridge of the hill and silence came. He sat in the silence for a time and considered the to be.

An hour passed, and the light turned to ash and shadow.

It was then he noticed the faces peering out of the cave. The long awkward necks stretching forward, the darting tongues tested the air and half-blind eyes squinted against the dying light. He did not move but only watched as they exited the dark cave and slid forward, underdeveloped wings helping little to keep them upright as they awkwardly waddled forth, their bodies intermingled. Two blue and one red. Such a marvel rarely seen. They approached the great corpse and once they tasted the blood they began to mewl. A sound so distressed and passionate that it would have drowned out the cheering of the victors chant had Rose and her warriors remained.

As if hearing his thoughts the three dragonlings snapped their three heads eastward as one, catching some scent perhaps on the evening breezes. Half seeing eyes spiraled and gleamed. This time the young red took the lead as the other two followed uncertainly. They moved to the edge of the hill where Rose had disappeared an hour before. Looking out over the land, the red bared white teeth and hissed in anger. A moment later the two blues joined the red and the sounds they uttered caused him to shiver.

Somehow the three did not see him as they turned and slunk toward their cave, determination seeming to have replaced their uncertain ambling, they now moved with a steady and deadly asssurance. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow back his fear. In the midst of their hisses he could just make out one word repeated.

 “revenge, revenge, revenge“



© Copyright 2019 Kevin Michael Smith. All rights reserved.

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