Oh, No You Don't

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: BoMoWriCha Prompts
Written for a challenge at the BoMoWriCha Prompt House.
cover pic: luke-southern-1231678-unsplash

Submitted: March 04, 2019

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Submitted: March 04, 2019

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Oh, No You Don’t!

After years and years of terrorizing, of haunting, possession and governing the underlings I think I’m entitled to a rest. A long one, actually. Being a Demon King is one pretty hot and hectic job and I’ve played the part and been my worst for thousands of years.

Finally, though, there comes a time when the smell of fire and brimstone no longer holds much attraction and a slight softness begins to creep in. No one would have dared to challenge me themselves, but I saw the signs myself and handed in my resignation to the good old Devil himself.

You want to retire? Are you sure?” he’d asked and at my nod he continued. “Pick a place and I’ll give you an army to call on if you should ever need it.”

He’d been as good as his word, had Satan. I found a spot, a rocky one, for I would never be one for grass and flowers. I lived on the very outskirts of a village where I could go for supplies or for company. No mischief, mind, for this was a quiet place, a happy place. Who would have thought that I, master of torment that I was, would ever be able to thrive in a place of contentment.

Jealousy seems to be an unavoidable human trait though. There had been at least ten attempted raids of invasions in the last ten years, and they were growing more frequent. No one in the village ever found out, for my army would see them off before they even set foot inside the boundaries.

Now there is a bigger army approaching. It is not going to be so easy to keep the villagers in ignorance. Just one person noticing them and within minutes the entire population will know, for so quickly does gossip spread.

I’ll call up the army of the dead. The wraiths and the ghosts and the skeletons, all dead and unkillable. They’ll come in their masses, a devil’s spawn horde, and I’ll ride out in front as their demonic Lord.

We’ll slaughter by darkness, when the smoke will go unnoticed and by daylight nothing will remain apart from some raw recruits and a lot of blood stains. Eventually, humanity is bound to get the message that this is my little piece of earth away from Hell, and will let me retire in peace.

Midnight, and all is quiet in the village. They’ll all be asleep, ready for sunrise and a new day. I remove the golden skull from within the secret box, give it a polish until it gleams, and then I call on them. They might not answer in sound but I know that they will hear my summons and I am certain that they will join me.

Hargard, my demon steed is waiting, his hooves kicking up dust. He bows his head to me, and I return the gesture; I might be a once-demon Lord, but as my horse he is due the same respect.

We ride out. I know where they will be for the invaders always set up camp in the same valley. There’s not much choice unless they want sharp rocks for a bed. My army is with me although they might be invisible. The wraiths and the ghosts are there in the air, while others take a more subterranean route.

Hargard’s steps are swift and silent. Nobody notices our approach until I hold up the golden skull and roar. That wakes them up and there’s total confusion as sleep still muddles their heads. I almost feel pity for them as the skeletons burst up around their feet and the wraiths and the ghosts whisk and whirl.

All too soon it is over, done. Not one of them is left to tell the tale. Maybe that is my mistake, for a survivor could have a tale to tell, sound out a warning to keep away. Something to keep in mind for next time I think, if anyone else should think to disturb my retirement.


© Copyright 2019 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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