The Mermaid’s Snare

My legs were aching. My heart worked harder than it had ever done before, but it didn’t matter. I had her- the mermaid curled against my chest.

“Get back here!” cried Father John, “She’s not human! Such a union will be cursed!”

“We’re in love! That’s all that matters.”

I dove into the ocean- opened my eyes…saw my shimmering tale. My heart soared. We could be together.

Miriana was smiling. I looked at her pretty face, at her naked breasts- I pulled her against me…kissed her neck, her chest, slid my hands down her…down her… I paused

“Umm… honey.” I said , “How do we…”

“Oh silly.” She said. “Not like that!”

“Wait…. What?”

“We mate by linking fins.”

“Are you kidding me!?”

“What’s the problem.” she said, “It’s just breeding.I mean, it’s not like it’s fun.”

My blood turned cold- and not just because I’d turned myself into a reptile.

“Andrew,” said Miriana, “Why are ?”

My body was shaking. My scream echoed through the whole ocean.

“Curse you Father John!”

Daily Prompt: Scorched- BEYOND THE APOCALYPSE

via Daily Prompt: Scorched

BEYOND THE APOCALYPSE

2062- and we were running for our lives. Running from the men in anti radiation suits. We turned the corner- but there were more men out to kill us. They weren’t government or enforcers. They were ordinary men from our rival tribe; they were worse than enforcers. For them this was personal.

“You can’t do this!” screamed my sister.

“Like hell we can’t, you little vermin!” cried a woman.

“We didn’t do anything!” screamed my sister.

“You’re taking our food!” screamed man, “It’s thanks to people like you, that our supplies are dwindling! It’s your fault this happened in the first place!”

He handed us to the men in radiation suits. My sister screamed as they dragged us away. Towards the entrance. Towards the end. My heart pounded in my chest. This was more like a dream. I heard the door slam. I felt earth beneath my feet for the first time. Exposed on the surface. We were going to die. We were really going to die.

My sister banged on the door for what seemed like an hour. No one listened; of course they didn’t. If I learned one thing from the underground Haven, it’s that people never listen. Eventually my sister learned that too. Her screams grew silent. She fell to her knees and was silent for a long time. Then she began to speak again.

“There’s no way out.” she said.

My answer was silence. I looked up at the sky, at the grey snowflakes falling on my cheek. My sister looked up too, lost in thought.

“Hey sis, can you tell me about the sky again?” she said, “Before the great war.”

I smiled, sad. I looked into the big black sky; at the endless wasteland of fallen buildings, burnt to the ground and covered in grey snow.

“I’ve never seen it before. “

“Tell me anyway.” she said, “I…I need something…something to stop me thinking about this…”

I sighed and looked to the sky, at the grey flakes falling down.

“Grandma always said back then, snow used to be different than it is now. Before the surface was scorched.” I said, “It didn’t fall apart when you touched it- not like this.” I said, holding another ashy flake in my palm as it disintergrated, “It was cool and wet. It used to cover all the earth, all the trees with beautiful white sheets. And people used to build snow men. Or make little balls and throw it at each other.”

We stare out, into the ashen wasteland.

“There wasn’t the war back then.” I said, my voice small, “There was… but not like this. Not like the one that did this- not like the purges.”

“Sis…” my sister’s voice choked. “How long… do you think we have… before the radiation kills us?”

“I don’t know, four hours maybe?”

We were both silent. We looked back at the cave lead door of the underground city we came from.

“Four hours.” she choked, “…I don’t want to die.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

I didn’t know what to tell her. In a few hours, we’d be nothing. We’d be dead. All I could do was hold her hand.

“The sky,” she spoke softly “It’s beautiful. Funny, all that time underground… I never thought I’d see it.”

I looked up at the endless void, filled with beautiful stars. I’d never seen a star before, but I’d assumed it was like one of our strobe lights. I never knew its life could be so…pure.

” Do you think it’s true- what they say?” she said, “That… maybe there is a paradise-somewhere here?”

The lost land sealed by the stone door. The story every child in the underground city knew by heart.

“Maybe.” i lied

“Hey, sis. I don’t want to die doing nothing.Do you think… maybe if we look, we might find it before the radiation kills us?”

“I think we should try.” I said.

We walked together, into the scorched wasteland, looking at the remains of humanity. At the piles of rubble that was once our greatest achievements that meant nothing now. In search of what man had been searching for since the dawn of time. Paradise. A place better than this one.

Hey, thanks for reading. This was done in response to the daily prompt challenge which is here: Scorched . Follow the link to find out about taking part.

If you’re interested in another piece of flash fiction set in this world, please click here for more on their paradise.

The Secret of The Sailor and The Kraken

Everyone knew the story of  my grandad. 50 years ago, a Kraken had terrorized our town. Killed a lot of people, including my Uncle. That’s when Grandpa snapped; with only a hunting knife, he went out and killed the monster and became a hero.

But one of the strange things about him was that he always walked along the sea front alone, late at night.

I followed him one night. I watched as he stood by the ocean. Moonlight glittered on a shiny black tentacle.

He didn’t even look up, “I knew you’d find me, lad. I’d like you to meet Ella. The Kraken’s daughter.”

“But… why?”

The old man gave a heavy sigh.

“Ella here’s a herbivore.” He said slowly, “Tried to feed her some tuna but she wouldn’t even touch it.”

“Then…”

He put his hands deep in his pockets.

“I found out…” he said, “many years ago, my son was seeing another man. Your mother said some men found out and didn’t like it. Were gonna blackmail him. Don’t know who.Apparently the thought of me knowing was worse than death to him.”

He kicked a rock.

“I’ll never know what happened- if it was someone else who killed him, or he did it himself.” his voice choked “All I know is that people still go missing, my son’s gone, and killing that Kraken didn’t do a damned thing.”

He gave me a long, tired look.

“If you only remember one thing I’ve told you, remember this.” he said, “It’s easier to kill a monster than look in the damned mirror.”

Grandpa walked away into the night,not looking back.

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This is my 280 word submission for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Each week we submit a story of approximately 100-175 words based on a photo which we use to center our short stories on. It’s really beyond the word length and is probably ineligible, but I had a good story and decided to share it here anyway. Hopefully it’ll be a good read anyway. For more information, click HERE.

Scarecrow of the Old South

 

Mr Abbott was always there, on the porch, drinking a beer. Holding his shotgun. Say his only friend was that scarecrow.

Older folks say it wasn’t always like this; he was different before ‘nam; or before his wife left. It always changed.

All we knew was that he’d always been there until one day, he wasn’t. We no longer saw him. We wondered, but no one dared ask. It was a salesman- an outsider – who found him. Said the door was open. He looked in. He dropped his suitcase. Called for help.

Police said Mr Abott had a fall. He’d layed there three days before he died. Shame really. We all went to his funeral. No one cried.

The only thing left of him is that scarecrow. On some nights people say they saw the scarecrow holding his old shot gun. Mr Abbott’s long been dead.But even now, no one dares go near his property.

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(157 words)

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This is my 150 word submission for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Each week we submit a story of approximately 100-175 words based on a photo which we use to center our short stories on. For more information, click HERE.

FLASH FICTION: Last Man In Paradise

I opened the stone door, to the other world; the one I thought could only be a delusion. Paradise. My breathe caught in my throat. It was… real. All those years of fighting, grey clouds, bullets. Watching my father die. Now I was here, in a field of endless green.

I held a flower in my hand. Bright and red and beautiful. It withered and turned to dust. I scattered its ashes. It turned the grass brown. I smiled. There were no people here; no houses, no cities. Not the wars. The angry crowds.My father; the mob dragged him away. Now there was nothing but singing birds.No one else here. I walked back out the stone door. Let Paradise be.