Winged Victory

Oh my goodness! What a week! This is my entry for the Dark Fairy Queen Writerly Bridal Shower. One of my online writing buddies, Anna Meade, is getting married! (You may remember her from the Behind the Curtain flash fiction contest I entered.) Several of her writer friends - Laura James, Miranda Kate, and Rebekah Postupak - decided to give her a flash fiction shower! And I was invited!!! Well, it wasn't easy. The following story is my 8th attempt... As I said, it's been a week. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Okay...I lied... This is actually attempt number seven. I went back to it after I almost posted attempt number eight. I heard back from a dear, dear friend of mine and she told me to fix the seventh, as it was better. (Don't worry. I think I may do something a bit longer with number eight.) So... After frantic fixing of number seven to fit the parameters and get it in on time, without further adieu...

Oh. Wait. I'm supposed to write a toast too... :D  I'm sure you can be patient enough to wait through just a few more lines before you get to my story, right? No? Oh, do be patient. A Toast to the Bride and Groom: May you always remember to seek the other's best. Enjoy every moment of every stage of this life together. It's worth it!



And now...coming in at 715 words...for the beautiful couple...
ebook: yes



Winged Victory by Alissa Leonard

 

 

I smiled.

“…Until death do us part, and forever after. I choose to be united with you in this great adventure.

My soul to yours as we pass through the forms,

‘til we reach perfection on those distant shores.”

That was going to ruffle some feathers, figuratively and literally. No one had spoken the words of soul-binding in a millennium.

Justin’s answering grin was all I could’ve hoped as he repeated the last line. We hadn’t told anyone of our soul-binding; they thought it was just a wedding. A marriage contract only lasted one life cycle. Soul-binding was forever.

Before anyone could stop us, we raised our hands, palms to palms, and spoke the Word of Binding together, “Abashai-oli.” We stood there, grinning stupidly, for a few precious moments before the cacophony started.

My mother was the loudest. The shriek she let out as she mantled her wings and raked a furrow in the perch could’ve shattered glass. Father tried to calm her and had his hand nearly snapped off for the effort. They didn’t get along now that she’d passed to her avian form.

Justin, bless his heart, turned to the minister and said oh-so-calmly with that smile still on his face, “Could you please present us, so that we may greet our guests?” Like the chaos below the dais wasn’t even there.

The minister, Justin’s Uncle Charlie, stared dumbfounded for a moment before clearing his throat. “I now present Mr. and Mrs. Justin White. You may kiss the bride?” He said it like it was a question. We leaned forward…

A hand clawed into my shoulder and yanked me backwards. “I’m certainly not going to let you seal that soul-binding with a kiss, you needle-brained half-wits!” Aunt Myrtle, mother’s sister, croaked into my ear. “Your mother is so mad she’s molting!”

“No!” I reached for Justin’s outstretched hand as he was pulled away. Our fingertips brushed momentarily. My vision filled with feathers and I was buffeted backward. I raised my arm to cover my eyes. Stupid bird-brained raptor instincts! I should’ve never invited Mother! Sometimes it takes a couple years to adjust to a regeneration. It hadn’t even been one since hers.

“Let go of me!” I heard Justin cry. Then some thumps. Then Mother gave an undignified squawk and shot into the sky. I dropped my arm. Justin was standing there with a fistful of tail feathers!

I giggled, somewhat hysterically, until Cousin Bart barreled into him, knocking him to the ground. “Hey! You are ruining my wedding!” I screamed and stomped my foot, slapping Aunt Myrtle’s hand from my shoulder. “That is enough! What is the meaning of this!? This is our decision!”

Mother was circling wildly above. Perhaps she overreacted because she was so young in this avian form? All the grandparents were sitting on their perches calmly. Even Janice, Justin’s niece who tragically regenerated two years ago, was still on her perch – although noticeably agitated. Grandpa Clarence, the only grandparent still human, was actually giggling – in a wheezing kind of way.

Father stood. “Sophie, you know the stories of heartbreak – two individuals bound together through human and avian forms for the rest of their lives. There is a reason it is…discouraged. When our bodies change, sometimes our hearts do as well. You clearly haven’t thought this through…”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Justin and I have been in the archives. Yes, many soul-bonded stumble about, causing havoc in the human timeline. None of us want another Trojan War! Pietre and Julianna even had that awful public display once – What did the humans call them? – Ah, yes, Romeo and Juliet. Stupid humans, dying for love ever since. Most soul-bonded survive the trials. They’re still together, nearing perfection in both forms. Odysseus and Penelope couldn’t have remained faithful for so long without a bond that ran deeper than mere affection. A soul-binding is a commitment to seek the other’s best in every stage of life. That may look different at different times, but it’s worth it.” I glanced at Justin, rising from the ground. “He’s worth it.”

He gave me his thousand-watt smile. No one stopped him as he reached his hand to my cheek, leaned down, and kissed me.

Mother shrieked from the sky and flew off. I smiled.

If you'd like to read the rest of the entries, you can see all of them HERE. :) Happy reading!

Question and Answer

I should be sleeping, but instead I wrote an entry for Motivation Monday! WooHoo! Thanks Wakefield Mahon for hosting the longest flash fiction contest I know about... And I didn't even use all 500 words today! (376) SHOCKING! :) The prompt, as always, is the first line: "If I could [forget] one memory..."  Enjoy!

“If I could forget one memory? Why do I have to pick one?”

“It’s a question designed to force you to order your memories and determine your priorities and such. It’s like picking your favorite color or something.”

“Why would I want to forget my favorite color?”

“I said ‘it’s like’…it’s a simile…nevermind. Maybe you can think about it like an anti-favorite. Choose an anti-favorite memory. One you want to forget.”

“Well that’s just stupid. I can’t just choose to forget a memory.”

“It’s a philosophical question, Randy, there’s no need to get peevish.”

“Philosophical? You want philosophical? If I pick one memory, then that changes all the other memories! All of them! We live a life in sequence, you know, all those butterfly-flapping-their-wings-across-the-world-changes-everything stuff.”

“I’m not asking you to decide something never happened, I just wondered if you ever wanted to not remember anything in particular.”

“Oh. Well, no. Even if something’s unpleasant, it teaches you something. If I were to forget it, then I’d be doomed to repeat it, right? That’s how the saying goes, Charlene.”

“You know too many sayings… Okay, what about your worst memory? What’s that?”

“When my Dad died. That question was easy.”

“Well, wouldn’t you like to forget that? All that pain?”

“That would be awkward. Me walking around not remembering my Dad was dead. I don’t think that would go over well.”

“Good point. That would be problematic. Ooooh! What about your most embarrassing memory?”

“Nope. Not telling. But I’m not forgetting either. It reminds me to have some humility.”

“There has to be something you don’t want to remember.”

“Charlene, you’re the one who wants to get all philosophical. Fine. I’m a product of my memories, the good and the bad. They’re what make me who I am, and I’m good with that. Sure, I’ve made mistakes, but I’d like to think I’ve learned from them. I’d like to think I’ve done the best I could with what I’ve been given.”

“Randy, I just need to know what type of memory you’d like to forget so that I can check it off on my survey for psychology class!”

“Ah. Well, could we just forget this conversation ever happened?”

“So, ‘awkward interaction with an acquaintance’ it is. Thanks.”

As She Lay Dying

This is my entry for Monday Mixer over at Jeffrey Hollar's blog! I haven't entered this one yet (I've started several, but never finish them in time! Plus, the words he chooses are HARD!). Anyway, here it is! :) 150 words exactly (as required) with the required words: hummock, capsule, truculent, and esoteric.

He trudged up the hummock in painful slowness, leaning on his shovel with each step. His body was old and weak. He reached the spot and began to dig.

He remembered the day he buried the capsule here. He had been young and truculent and looking for adventure. He found her instead. She tempered him. She had made the decision easy, giving up his old self and taking on human form forever. He had planned to die here with her.

He would have. Truly. But they took her from him too early. He couldn’t protect her. He’d tried.

As she lay dying, in his moment of weakness, he told her his plan. She disagreed, spoke of forgiveness.

He sat, panting and holding his box etched with esoteric writing. It was heavier than he remembered – the weight of the universe, the key to the rest of himself.

Could he do it?

Tall Tail: The Guardian

Hehehe! I couldn't help myself with the title... (Titles are hard for me, just so you know...) Anyway, MOTIVATION MONDAY IS BACK!!! (In case you missed it) I am so excited! This is probably my favorite flash contest (Thanks, Wakefield Mahon) for two reasons. One, I get to write 500 words! This is the longest flash competition I enter regularly and I LOVE the freedom to flesh out an idea. Two, it's a first sentence prompt. I think I like this as a discovery writer because it gives me even more freedom. I can take the sentence WHEREVER I WANT. Yeah, I'm so glad it's back!

This weeks prompt was the sentence: [Toto], I have a feeling we're not [in Kansas] anymore!

(The words in brackets [ ] give you wiggle room to replace words to fit your story.)

I didn't know Motivation Monday was coming back, so it caught me off guard, but I had to enter! So I woke up early and wrote it in 40 minutes without editing... So it's not as sharp as I'd like it. And the worst part about it is the names...I just didn't have time to get the right ones. This is the first time I've ever written from an animal's perspective, so that was fun. Something different. The third person viewpoint was hard. I don't use it much and when I do I usually go in tight, but I stayed a little back this time. I'm not sure it was the right choice, but I thought I'd try it. I also don't know much about foxes...I don't know exactly why I picked them, but I think I somehow made them a cross between a dog and a cat? I don't know. I was trying to do some worldbuilding for a furture novel Little Red Riding Hood retelling with a scifi-ish twist. Even with all that, it turned out fun and I won an Honorable Mention! WooHoo! Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! :)

   

“Shifting Sand, I have a feeling we’re not in Furania anymore!” Shining Water dipped her nose to the ground and sniffed at the detritus on the forest floor.

“Howling Hounds, Shiner! Whatever gave you that idea?” He flipped his head and raised the tuft of hair on his neck.

“There’s no need for the sarcasm, Shifty, I was just – ”

“Stating the obvious?” Shifty interrupted. “Did you think passing through the portal into the guardian’s land would put us back in the hollow?”

Shiner dipped her head almost to the ground and lowered her bushy tail between her legs, “Of course not. I guess I thought stating the obvious would help me be a little less nervous.”

Shifty moved forward to nuzzle his friend, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I guess I’m a little nervous too.”

“I wasn’t even sure it would work! I mean, Lumpy seemed to be telling the truth, but if wolves ever got anything right…”

“…the streams would dry up and the land fall from under our feet, I know. But it looks like he was at least telling part of the truth. C’mon!” Shifty took one last look at the tree behind him pulsing the white glow from the rift in its trunk, then put his head to the ground and his ears up as they moved away.

They soon came to a clearing with a little house in the center. They dipped low to the ground and watched as a female – something – emerged from behind carrying food in a basket.

“Grandmother!” The animal bared her teeth.

Shiner whispered, “Do you suppose she’s the Guardian?”

“Rose? Is that you?” Came an answer from within and the front door banged open hastily. “You weren’t supposed to be here until after noon!” This female was much older. It carried a staff with a hook on the end and wore a red cape with a hood drawn up.

“No. This one is.” Shifty replied.

“Are you going somewhere?” The young one looked around, “I thought maybe we could picnic at the lake and it would take time to get there…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the old one.

The old one glanced hastily around the clearing and shook her head, “It’s not safe right now dear. Go on inside. I’ll only be a moment.” The young one was waved inside and the old one shut the door. She closed her eyes and held the staff out, then her head turned unerringly toward the hiding foxes.

“She’s seen us!” Shiner whined, a small whimper escaped.

“No she hasn’t, we’re too well hidden… But she’s heard you for sure now!”

“She’s going to beat us like Lumpy said!” And Shiner bolted from the brush back to the Portal. The old one watched her go, then looked back at the hiding place. Shifty had a moment of panic and accidentally marked the spot before running after her as fast as he could.

Another Miracle

This piece was written for Flash! Friday March 8th at Rebekah Postupak's blog. The prompt was a 200 word story (10 word grace either way) based on the photo prompt:



I finished it in 206 words... That was tough... :)  I'm not really thrilled with the ending, but I had to re-write it several times and what I wanted to say was just TOO MANY WORDS... Grrr. Ah well. Enjoy!

Gabriel finished his morning prayers, making his way around the steaming earth that held the hopes of the world, or would have if they’d known of it. There would be sprouts tomorrow. Finally.

A tingle went up his spine. He turned to see the lad running like a hare hunted.

Jonas tumbled to the ground at his feet, gasping for breath, “The river. They’ve found a way though somehow…”

“No.” Gabriel breathed and glanced back at the tilled earth in frustration. “I need more time!”

“Then ask for it.” Fear and trust warred in Jonas’s eyes.

“I’ve already asked for too much…Another miracle would be…”

“Necessary?” Passion contorted his face. “Perhaps there is no such thing as too much. Perhaps we’re supposed to ask for everything.”

“But…That’s not tradition. I’m not prepared! I haven’t completed the rituals…”

“If you don’t ask, we’re dead! What have we got to lose?”

“I don’t know…”

Jonas grunted in exasperation, “I’ll do it then.” He began to pray.

Gabriel took a deep breath and placed his hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “You’re right. Forgive me.” He bent to pray. Together they begged for another miracle to protect the first – For a way, yet again, to save the world.

The earth moved…

Monster Chairs

This piece was written for Flash! Friday February 22nd over at Rebekah Postupak's blog. This was a 150-200 word story based on the photo prompt:



...REALLY awesome photo! I had so much fun writing this one! I was totally proud of it...it didn't win anything. :(  HOWEVER, Rebekah used it for her Flash Points piece that week! It was really fun to see someone break down my writing and analyze it a bit. (I love you, Rebekah!) So, without further adieu, coming in at 200 words exactly - Monter Chairs! :)

“Well that… wasn’t what I expected at all!” Tempest stared unblinking at the chairs, her mouth hanging open slightly.

“But the spell worked, right? You did it! No more zombies!” Constance began a celebratory dance with all the exuberance of one who only moments before wasn’t sure she would live through the hour.

“Worked? No, it didn’t exactly work.” Tempest still hadn’t blinked. She gestured expansively with her hand at the chairs, “they’re not supposed to be there.”

Constance stopped dancing, “The chairs? But what does it matter? They’re not zombies anymore.”

Tempest finally blinked, turned to Constance, and raised her eyebrows, “What does it matter? The spell didn’t work. If one thing didn’t work, how can we know what happened? Did it change them into chairs? Did it switch them with chairs from somewhere? Is this temporary? What happens –” She glanced back at the chairs.

The chairs were walking toward them.

“Connie, they’re moving.” Tempest took a step backward.

Constance inhaled slowly through her nose, “They’re chairs. What can they do to us?”

Tempest grabbed her by the arm, “C’mon! Who knows what they are! The spell went wrong somehow!”

Constance stumbled, “They can’t hurt us… Can they?”

Murder Mystery

Sorry it's been a while since I've posted anything! Life kind of blew up for me this past month. You all know about my Writing Excuses Retreat win, but that very same week my hubby was offered a job that he accepted. Which means this month was spent packing and cleaning so that we could put our house on the market so that we can move out of state. I haven't had any time to get on the computer, much less write...mostly. Anyway, long story short, the house is for sale and it looks good enough I don't have to spend EVERY free second making it look better. :)

I have written four flash pieces this past month that I haven't posted, so here's the first one. It was for Flash! Friday over at Rebekah Postupak's blog. It's a great flash fiction site if you're looking to jump in and join us! The prompts change each week, so you never know what's coming. In addition to the Friday prompt, she also has a critique piece on one of the non-winning entries and an interview with the overall winner that week. Super fun!

This piece was written for Feb 15th's competition. That week was a 150-400 word murder mystery story based on your choice of both a weapon and location.





 I chose the poisoned wine and the staircase. It came in at 398 words. Enjoy! :)

By the way, this was one of my first attempts at 3rd person omniscient viewpoint...I'm not sure it came out right, but it was fun! It was way longer and I had to cut a lot out to fit the word count...

The poison took time to increase in potency to the point where it would kill. That made it untraceable. It was placed in the wine and left to age. It would be opened tonight.

They were drinking out of custom goblets. The glass cup was ensconced within intricate iron filigree. Each was unique: a dragon, a fox, a ram, a bull, a stag, a snake, and an eagle.

The goblets were left alone in the kitchen, full and awaiting service, for too long.  It needed only a moment to place the poison. The deed was done.

The girl, unknowing, carried the tray into the dining room, placed it on the buffet, curtsied, and withdrew. The conversation stopped as each eyed the goblets with knowing looks.

“Splendid!” Gordon stood and waved his arms toward the drinks, “Grab a goblet and we shall discuss business particulars upstairs.”

His six guests filed over and picked one seemingly at random.

“Look here!” exclaimed Tidus, “I do believe this is a bull! Beautiful work.”

The rest raised their goblets to see the animal on their own. Michael said in disgust, “I’ll not have a stag! Give me the bull!” And he yanked the goblet out of Tidus’ hand and replaced it with the stag.

Marcus laughed, “I don’t know how I ended up with the snake, but that seems more befitting your character, Caius.” He held it out with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Caius smirked, inclined his head, and exchanged his own ram.

“And if there is anyone quite so cunning as a fox it’s Bartholomew. This cup was made for you.” Peter raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as he waited to see whether Bartholomew would take it.

Bartholomew squinted his eyes at Peter for a moment before reaching for the fox. He held it up and examined it before handing his own dragon to Peter.

“Oh my!” Peter continued, “And this is a dragon! Surely this belongs to the master of the house!” He turned toward Gordon and smiled.

Gordon eyed his own eagle for a moment before relinquishing it with a small smile and a nod of his head. “Are we all thus arranged?” He didn’t wait for a reply, “To my partners in crime, may we grow stronger together.” They each raised their goblet and drank.

As they all ascended the spiral staircase, Michael fell down dead.