#RaceTheDate : Life In The Water, On The Water, Or Underwater

“It is time I remembered who I am.”

That’s all the note said. Oceana placed it on the pillow of her bed within the castle at the bottom of the Eastern Sea. She longed to hug her son once more. To walk through the flowers in the castle gardens once more. She knew she could not.

It was time for her to step aside, and let her son, Sword, rule. It was time for her to heal the wounds in her heart and find the missing pieces of her soul.

Sword would know. He would understand. She’d left him a message only he could read, in the drawings scattered about the note.

Oceana left the castle through the window of her room. Her wings silently propelled her from her home of centuries, into the freedom of the sea. She needed to remember. To experience. All of the life of the sea. The life in the water, on the water, or under the water. It had been so long she’d forgotten.

As she flew through the ocean currents, she closed her eyes, and tried to feel the oceans touch. Centuries before, she felt every movement of the water past her body, between her fingers, across the soles of her feet.

All she felt was empty.

She wanted to cry for the lost pieces of her soul, and the scars life had made in her heart. But no tears flowed.

She let her wings take her where they wished, soaring past schools of fish and gardens of coral. They too her from the kingdom she’d ruled for too long, into the wilderness at the bottom of the sea. Where she could remember how to feel. Where she would remember who she was. Where she would once more become one with the sea.

300 Words
@LurchMunster


A little story I couldn’t resist writing for Cara Michaels‘s Race The Date flash fiction challenge. Hope you enjoy it. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge this week. I find it amazing the stories people can create in 300 words or less.

#MondayMixer – Galan

Galan stood at the foot of the path leading from the seashore, through the cliffs, into the kingdom. The tip of his broadsword rested on the sandy rock. His armor gleamed in the sunlight. He’d been scrupulous in his preparations. Each plate perfectly polished, perfectly attached. His sword sharpened to its finest edge.

The cliffs to either side of the path were lined with archers that would rain death down on the invaders when they arrived. He was there, at the entrance to the path, to insure no invaders made it to the path. Behind him was Landen, then Marnock, and one by one, each of the remaining knights. Each would fight until they fell.

Galan embraced the honor of being the first knight to face the invaders. He hoped he would pass beyond the veil of life with honor, as a true warrior, and defender of the realm.

150 Words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry into the very first week of Jeffrey Hollar‘s new flash fiction challenge, Monday Mixer. Please go read all the other entries. You can find them here.