Going back to work has really messed up my schedule. I want to say life, but that’s sounds rather dramatic, albeit somewhat true. In my planner, I’ve been setting a goal of writing two flash fictions a month, which you would think would be an easy task to complete, and yet, I couldn’t get them written in March.

So I set aside a day to write this week, a little bit of everything, and you can guess how that went. I was feeling…ambitious…also, a bit determined. I need to spend time doing the things I enjoy too. It can’t always be about the grind.

I present to you (March and) April’s flash fictions, in my pursuit to write at least 16 new pieces this year. I’m halfway there! ((thumbs up))

Enough

“We all have our reasons.” Those haunting words had come from an unlikely ally, one she knew she couldn’t trust, no matter his “reasons”.

The revolt had long been in the works, but it wasn’t until today that they took action. 

It was necessary. 

They were justified in rising up. 

She just didn’t know how alone they’d find themselves once they finally did.

There had been a surprising division in the populace when offered the chance at freedom. So many were compliant, unwilling to take the risk. They turned their backs. They played dumb. They simply didn’t care what happened to those not so different from themselves. It could have been them, if they found themselves in a different box, but they considered themselves lucky for being “normal”.

How boring life would be if everyone fit that mold.

And so, as she stood before one who had long championed conformity, and everything else they stood against, she had to wonder what had brought them to this point? What did they consider the uncrossable line in the proverbial sand of their morality?

They couldn’t be trusted, but they could be exploited, and so it began.

Red Light District

The red light used to mean something different, or so I’m told. It was a way to communicate a service, rather discreetly, until it became more well-known. There were entire districts within cities named for the light that provided patrons with all manor of diversion, but now it meant something else.

Now, it was a means of refuge.

Hm. Now thinking about it, it was a refuge then too, just for a different means of escape.

Red lights were scarce, and you had to know someone who knew someone who knew someone that could lead you there because the vice grip of the police state wanted to keep everything, and everyone, within their grasp. They couldn’t allow any one to escape, because that kind of leak could cause their entire system to crumble, so the red light was like an urban legend.

Everyone “knew” someone who had been able to utilize the service, it was a more comforting thought as to why people went missing, but now here I was. The darkened hallway looked more like something out one of those pre-war horror movies people used to enjoy, not realizing one day we’d be living a daily nightmare. The slash of red that should have caused fear actually caused hope to swell. After nearly a year of searching, in a few moments, I could be out.

Last Ditch Effort

We weren’t exactly cornered, but we wouldn’t be able to outrun the horde either. We were all batttered and bleeding and didn’t have enough supplies to remedy ourselves for more fighting. I hated the Deep Roads. They were probably spectacular at the height of the Dwarven empire, but now they were a death trap. Not one building offered proper shelter, let alone a defensive position, and yes, while we had been able to travel deeper than anyone in an age and would come out the other side, if we were lucky enough, rather wealthy from the abandoned treasure, I wasn’t sure that was enough incentive.

There was a narrow pass over a long drop, which would slow up our pursuers for a moment, and maybe we could take out enough of them while they tried to cross, but it wasn’t the only route. We were at risk of being surrounded.

As we weighed our options, I looked up, as did my companions, and we all had the same idea. “If you’ll give me a minute…I think I can make this worse.”

Stray

She shouldn’t have come with him – hindsight was brilliant in times like these – but how could she not? It was another planet, another world, and she was going to be the first human to see it, to stand upon its ground and admire its beauty. He was going to gather resources for the journey, but she didn’t believe she would be a liability. Why would she? She was a tourist, basically. An extra pair of hands. 

So, when the weather took a sharp, unexpected turn, and hail the size of VW Bugs started to fall from the sky, she was surprised to find him coming to her rescue, putting himself at risk, for her. He had barely acknowledged her presence since coming aboard, to some degree against her will, if she may say so, so why would she think he would care at all for her well-being, other than the implications of having a human aboard his ship?

And now he was injured, and she didn’t know what to do. It’s not as if he had a physiology she was familiar with, and being unconscious, didn’t lend to him telling her what she could do to help. What it did lend to was a quiet moment to reflect on the strange man who had become her rescuer. He was interesting to look at, dare she think, attractive, even among his own kind. He was helping her, even if she believed, begrudgingly, and she was indebted to him for saving her from a desperate situation, and now, no matter her ineptitude, she might have an opportunity to repay him. 

~ * ~

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Happy Writing!