A Drift of Quills for August 2021

It has been a hectic time of late for we Quills, but this month we are back with more of our favorites - and we hope yours - FLASH FICTION!

P.S. Broaddus chose our picture prompt this time. Take a look!

Now that is one busy picture! Entitled Epic Journey, it is the work of Volkanyenen. 

As promised, we have three new stories for you, each based on the this picture prompt. I'll set mine out, then follow up with P.S. Broaddus's story, and finally, with Robin Lythgoe's tale.

Are you ready? Here we go!

The Screaming Wilds
by Patricia Reding
​Copyright Patricia Reding 2021

The Screaming Wilds spread far and wide, filled with centuries-old trees, the roots of which bulged above ground, ready to trip the weary or unwary. Meandering streams throughout poured into fetid marshes. At the center sat The Crushing Falls, through which flowed The Tears of Beasts, dark-magic infused waters that turned all that entered them from good, to evil. 

Storm and Tracer trudged through the Wilds, along with Beowulf, their trusty canine companion. 

As dusk settled, faint light peeked through the leafy canopy above, casting a purplish hue to objects below.

Storm, armed with her sword, Forge, along with her young brother, Tracer, who carried the Staff of Inverse Effect, made camp in a branch that stretched high above ground. Storm tied a rope around Tracer’s waist and then to a limb before securing another rope for herself.

“That should do it,” she said, tightening the last knot. 

“Are you sure the Stinklings won’t follow us up here?” Tracer asked, his voice worry-laden.

“Pretty sure.” She pulled hardtack from her pack.

“But Stank and his minions, Funk and Reek, are not far behind.”

“Not to mention Stench and Malador,” Storm added. “I saw them a short while ago.”

Tracer winced. “Those beasts will find us here,” he said. “They have keen hearing.”

“True, but they don’t like heights, so I expect they’ll camp below. At least, I hope so. I plan to creep back down later to listen in to their plans.”

“But how will we get out of here?” Tracer whispered.

Storm pointed. “See ahead there? That branch from that tree over there rests on this one. We’ll cross the water by following it and then make our way to the ground on the other side. And the trunk is moss covered, which should muffle any noise we make. Hopefully we’ll get a good head start before they hear us.”

“That’s why you sent Beowulf across when we started climbing!”

“That’s right. As we've discovered, he’s immune from the troubling waters here.”

“And if we don’t make it across before the Stinklings?”

She grinned. “They hate water even more than they hate heights.”

“Ahhh! So they’ll have to climb and cross behind us!” Tracer exclaimed. “That’s brilliant.”

“Shhhh, now,” Storm cautioned, “I hear them below.”

“But what about this?” Tracer whispered, raising the Staff of Inverse Effect.

“Tie it to your belt.” After he’d done as bidden, Storm handed him some hardtack. “Eat up,” she said before taking a bite from her own. True to its name, it was indeed hard. Worse, it tasted like a rusty nail and left a gritty feeling in her mouth. 

“Get some rest now,” Storm said.

Within minutes, Tracer drooled, deep in sleep. Storm chuckled at the sight, then quietly made her way back down the tree so that she might hear what the Stinklings had to say. 

Several hours later, buoyed with new insight, Storm returned to Tracer’s side. 

“Get up,” she whispered, nudging him.

The two set off, cautiously crawling from branch to branch, before making their way back to ground on the opposite bank. The Stinklings, having discovered the siblings’ escape plan, followed—precisely as Storm had predicted.

“We need to hurry!” she exclaimed as her feet touched ground.

“Yes. Let’s go home!” Tracer agreed.

“No.” Pausing to scratch Beowulf between his ears, Storm grinned. “I’ve a better plan. Come on! We’ll head for the Crushing Narrows.” She sprinted forward, but Tracer, chasing behind, caught her arm to stop her. 

“But we’d be trapped!” he cried.

“I’ve got a plan,” Storm said. She leaned in and whispered in Tracer’s ear, then pulled back to find him grinning back at her as he situated the Staff of Inverse Effect more comfortably on his belt.

Once more, the two set off. 

Soon, the siblings neared the Crushing Narrows. Sounds of splashing water filled the air.

“There!” Storm exclaimed as she neared the edge of a rock jutting out over the water.

Tracer followed, looked down, and then turned back. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking intently into his sister’s eyes.

“I think.” She shrugged. “But just imagine! This could finally end our problems with the Stinklings!”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“You don’t have to follow, Tracer. We could find you a hiding place—if we act quickly.”

“No, I’m with you. I’d never find my way back home alone anyway.”

Soon, the sounds of breaking sticks and grunting Stinklings reached the siblings as the beasts neared.

“Here they come!” Storm cried. “Now wait until I give you the word. We want them all to follow!” After placing Tracer before her on the rock’s edge, he once more, fussed with the Staff.

“Ready?” Storm asked as the five Stinklings started lumbering up the rock. 

“Ready!” Tracer said.

“Now!”

Tracer raised the Staff of Inverse Effect and then threw it into the water. The second it hit the surface, he jumped. Behind him came Beowulf, then Storm—and then the five Stinklings.

As the Staff hit the pooled Tears of Beasts below, its magic took effect. Instantly, the murky, evil-infested waters became crystal clear.

Storm made her way back to the surface. Then, “Look!” she exclaimed, pointing.

The five former Stinklings stood before the siblings, each returned to his human form. Each examined his hands and fingers, then those of his fellows.

“The curse is lifted!” Stank exclaimed. “But these are the very waters that turned us into those horrible creatures! It’s why we’ve feared water ever since. But—what happened?”

Tracer dove under the water, only to return seconds later, holding high, the Staff of Inverse Effect. “Simple,” he said. “Storm heard you talking last night about how it was evil magic that infested these waters, how it had turned you all into Stinklings—and how you intended we would join your ranks. All we had to do was get this Staff here to change the water’s magic—to inverse its evil—to good!”

There you have it! And it came in, title and all, under 1000 words - 998 words to be precise.

Next up is P.S. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse. Parker? Take it away! (And readers, don't forget to follow the link to the rest of Parker's story.

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The Elemental Temple
by P.S. Broaddus
​Copyright P.S. Broaddus 2021

“Over there,” Teddy pointed with the gnarled stick he was holding like a staff. “They’re probably hiding in the shadows – they don’t like the sun.”

Lena wasn’t sure if Teddy truly believed in goblins, or if it was just his highly active imagination embracing the game as completely real.

​“Knock it off, Ted.” She tried to sound tough, like an older sister should sound. “Let’s just find the temple already.”

What fun! Thank you, Parker. And all that in only 1041 words!

Finally, we have Robin Lythgoe, author of As the Crow Flies. 

​Here we go! (Once again, readers, don't forget to follow the link for the rest of the story.)

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Hazu Hotfoot and the Orb of Orgrad
by Robin Lythgoe
Copyright Robin Lythgoe 2021

“We’re here.” Hazu peered over a moss-covered pile of rocks, eyes narrowed. A thundering roar filled the space beneath the towering trees. Gnarled, humped roots rose far over the goblin’s head.

“Can you see the orb?” Pint-sized Morsel rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Hazu grunted. “Nah. Too much water.”

“Lemme look.” With a shove and a wiggle, he moved up beside her. “Wouldja lookit that…”

Thank you, Robin

And thank you, readers, for stopping by. Do visit us all again soon!