A Drift of Quills for August 2019

It is almost impossible to believe, yet true, that August is upon us. The days are growing shorter, the nights longer, and for the most part, also cooler. I am looking forward to a much needed get-away before summer's end, but for now, I'm excited to bring you the August post for A Drift of Quills. We are back to what has quickly become our favorite kind of post, and it seems to be yours, too. What kind is that? Why, flash fiction, of course!

This time around, Robin Lythgoe, selected the picture that we used for inspiration. It is always great fun to read the wildly different stories the three of us come up with to go with the chosen picture for these posts, so prepare yourself!

Below is the photo. 

We Quills all seem to view the parameters of flash fiction a bit differently. My personal goal is to stay within 1000 words - if at all possible. Today, I've managed to do just that - coming in, I believe, at 998 words, title and all! But before I share my flash fiction story with you, I'm anxious to read what my fellow Quills have for us all. (Make sure you follow the links for each of Parker and Robin to get the full story for each.)

P.S. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse, is sure to have a great read for us, and no doubt it will be loaded with wit and charm. Take it away, Parker!

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The Standing Stone
by P.S. Broaddus
Copyright P.S. Broaddus 2019

The guardian standing at water’s edge hadn’t always been there. At one time no shadow from the pillar of rock crept across the long salt-grass, as the western sun sank into the wine-dark sea. The path that ran along the coast from the capitol of Plen toward the high timbered trees of Greatwood Forest didn’t always have the patch of stone shade that marked the half-way point. There hadn’t been a section of the monolith rubbed smooth by thousands of hands, touching the rock and then touching the forehead for good fortune.

As mentioned, Robin Lythgoe, author of As the Crow Flies, selected the pic for us this time around. I can't wait to read her story. So . . . here goes!

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The Judgment Stone
by Robin Lythgoe
Copyright Robin Lythgoe 2019

There’s a town near the Rhogan coast that has a unique way of dealing with undesirables. Their “undesirables” consist of murderers, rapists, and arsonists. Thieves—unless their theft ruins a citizen’s livelihood or affects the entire town—are generously permitted a second chance. Upon conviction, the criminal is immediately taken to the Stone of Judgement, bound there, and left to the whims of the local dragon. If he or she is still breathing at the same time the next day, freedom is restored. Apparently the almighty dragon decide whether or not they are innocent, no matter what other proof previously stood against them.

​You can safely imagine that those who escape leave the surrounds and never return. You might also imagine my astonishment at being arrested, tried, and found guilty of something called “High Thievery.” I’ve never stolen a thing in my life, unless you count a nap now and then. Well, I have helped myself to apples in the orchards I pass on my way between towns… But a face? How does a person steal a face?

And now, it's my turn. Ready?

​Here goes . . .

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Left Ahead
by Patricia Reding
Copyright Patricia Reding 2019

A musty odor greeted Lorna as she awakened, stiff and cramped. She groaned. Her head hurt; her body ached. 

​A clicking sounded out, as something brushed her cheek.

Lorna’s eyes flashed open. She bolted upright, then turned to the source of the touch. Although semi-dark, there was no mistake. 

“Onyx!” she cried, recognizing her long time companion, a snowy owl that had adopted her shortly after her father’s death. She wrapped her arms around his neck and combed her fingers through his soft fur-like chest feathers. 

​Onyx hooted.

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“Where are we, boy?”

He cocked his head.

“Wait.” Lorna got to her feet. Looking about, she found herself in a room roughly the size of Archwarden Elowen’s shoe closet. Bare of any furnishings, through its single large open window, a sliver of grey light shone. Whether predawn, or eventide, Lorna could not tell. 

As she stepped closer for a better look, Onyx perched on the sill.

​Looking out, Lorna found herself several stories high. Below, and spread nearly to the horizon, sat a forest. At its outermost point, glimmered a blue light, instantly recognizable as the Codex Capital where the Archwarden resided. To its north, sat Avoncaster Sea. There was no mistake then. Lorna was in the Arcane Tower, home of the evil Wizard Odell, best known for his shenanigans at playing games with time. 

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Rubbing the back of her neck, Lorna contemplated her situation. The last she remembered clearly, she and the rest of the Archwarden’s freedom fighters, had set out to arrest Chamber Dawson. In serving Wizard Odell, Dawson had run afoul of the law on one too many occasions. But, Lorna recalled, things had not gone according to plan. As her second in command, Kit Trescott, led a group to approach Dawson’s hideout from the front, she and Margrave Taffy made their way to the back so as to insure that Dawson didn’t escape via that route. To her surprise, someone stepped out from the darkness, grabbed Margrave, and held him in a chokehold. Then Lorna found herself face-to-face with the man she sought. Before she could cry for help, Dawson’s blow struck.  

Lorna tried to conjure up more details, but few came to mind. She did remember being carried away, and dropping in and out of consciousness for a time thereafter. She also vaguely recollected having been left in the very room in which she now found herself, and she recalled how immediately after that, Onyx flew in through the window. But from that moment, she’d lost all consciousness. For how long, she knew not, but she surmised that her pet had not left her side all the while. 

​Onyx hooted, interrupting her reverie.

Lorna sighed. Her head ached, but she knew she had to reconnect with her fellow freedom fighters. She expected they’d look for her at Brackenclutch. A mere stone pillar, the outpost served as a common meeting place for the Archwarden’s supporters.

Turning to the opposite wall, Lorna found an arched door. Hoping she wasn’t too heavily guarded, she decided she’d have a look. 

​Unsheathing her knife, she tentatively approached the door, then reached for its handle. To her surprise, it turned. 

​She cracked the door open and peeked out. 

---

Yet another surprise met her: the hall was empty, but for a lone, crackling pitch torch, settled in a wall sconce. Its flames cast eerie shadows across the damp walls. 

​With Onyx at her side, Lorna wasted no time. She made her way out of the castle, then sprinted off, into the night. ​

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Two overcast days and nights later, as dusk approached, Lorna arrived at her destination. The earliest evening stars peeked out in the, at long-last, clear sky.

Lorna stood at a distance. She sensed something out of order, but couldn’t place what.

Quietly, she made her way through the brush that surrounded the outpost. Approaching the stone pillar, in hopes her comrades had left a message there, she looked skyward at Onyx, gliding overhead. Then, what had troubled her earlier, suddenly became clear. 

The night sky was all wrong. She, Kit, Margrave, and their cohorts, had set out for Dawson’s hideout in the early spring. But the constellations told her that autumn approached.

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At that moment, a chuckle sounded out.

She spun toward the sound. 

Before her, stood Wizard Odell.

“So, the great Lorna Rinn, the Archwarden’s chief defender, finds herself in a spot,” he mocked.

“I see you’ve been up to your games again,” Lorna said, “toying with time.”

The wizard grinned.

She frowned. “Look, the last I remember before awakening in Arcane Tower, it was early spring. But I see that autumn approaches.” She sighed. “I suppose that explains why my pals are not here to greet me. They could hardly wait a half year for me to show up.”

He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, my dear,” he cooed, “you are not a mere six months off.”

“No?”

“No, my dear, you are sixty years off—give or take. Your Archwarden Elowen is newly born—an event her father celebrates with a festival.”

Lorna’s heart pounded. If what the wizard said was true, she didn’t know another living soul. Even her parents didn’t yet exist. 

“Undo this!” she cried.

“Mmmm … I think not. But you’re lucky, you see. Since your pet here,” he gestured toward Onyx, “stayed with you in my tower, he also was ensorcelled. So, you are not wholly alone. And of course, one day, you will return to the loved ones you left … ahead.” 

Without more, the wizard, smiling, stepped away and disappeared into the night. 

Lorna sat quietly for a time. Then, finally, she addressed Onyx. “He didn’t win, you know. Evil never does. His mistake? Sending me back in time, not forward. Now I can undermine his plans, circumvent the efforts of those who would help him, perhaps even before they come into existence.” She stood. “Well, come on then, Onyx. We’ve work to do.”

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As always, we look forward to your comments. What do you think?