[TGB] Gift of the Pipers She should have known it would catch up to her again. Should have known her life had begun to be too happy. Just when everything was finally going right - when she finally felt at home again, and had friends around her, and was figuratively surrounded by kits from her last mentor and adoptive aunt - just when life was great, Death caught up to her. Perhaps she was just lucky, or someone else was unlucky, but it wasn’t someone close to her. Nevertheless, it hurt, because she did know the pale she-cat who lay in Death’s cold grasp, and it hurt to see others in pain.[TGB] Gift of the Pipers20 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She knew Mister Cyrus had to be utterly devastated, having seen how close he was to his mate...and if he was hurting, she knew Aunty Palette would be sharing that pain. Mister Kakoora, too, seemed to simply break from the news; Tsu had seen him grieving, as she sat a fair distance away to pay her own respects. And Miss Csilla had just had kittens very recently... The Pink-Shad
Surreality 0Here, there is a crate. Inside that crate, is a child.Surreality 019 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Why do you hide, child?"
"I'm in my box. My box is safe."
"Your box is lonely."
"I'm not lonely. I have you."
"I am near, yes, but I am not with you."
"I have all I need in my box."
"There is wonder in the world around you, child. Come out of your box; you're missing the beauty of the world."
The crate's lid lifted. A small head poked out.
"What beauty? What wonder?"
"Look around you, child. See the telegirl walking her teledog. Take note of the rabbit whose ears bite as the mouth listens."
"This world is strange. I want to go back in my box."
"Strange and confusing with the eyes open, ask of the girl who sees with senses if the world is scary."
"Where is she?"
"She is here yet those who see are blind. See not and you will feel her tail upon your skin."
The child closed their eyes and felt something caress his face.
"Is that her?"
"hello. you wanted somethin
This Side of the Grave - Day 111What was once the Grave-Robber meandered down the worn road of the quiet little town, carving a line into the path with the loosely gripped shovel. It was such a cosy little area. He wouldn't mind resting here once his business was done. Or maybe, and much more likely, he could turn the nearby metropolis into his nest. Ah, yes, that would work quite well. Plenty of power and materials to draw from. He decided and continued forward, a new sense of determination brewing in his mind.This Side of the Grave - Day 1115 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Suddenly, an elderly man dressed in mucky rags popped out of the brambles beside him. “Wait a minute!” He yelled. “Wait, a, minute! You, you need to come with me!”
The Grave-Robber chuckled. “Why should I?”
“You, you are, a demon!”
“How are you so sure?”
“Well them eyes ain't exactly normal.”
The Grave-Robber laughed as the man gestured to his glowing red eyes. “Yes, they are quite an obvious sign, aren't they.” He started to
Blinded: Part 11Brent took a harsh cut to his arm, causing him to drop his sword in pain. The red swung again, and Brent had to fall to the side to avoid being skewered, ending up next to Charles, who had just tried to get up again. The back of his shirt was stained red from Nero's strike. The red soldier grinned as he prepared to skewer Brent, but he was stopped by a call from Nero, "Hold on! Leave these last two to me!"Blinded: Part 1119 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Brent clambered to his feet, until Nero pushed both him and Charles back to the earth. "You snots really thought you could stop me? That's laughable! Nobody is going to save you! Nobody!"
As Nero made his speech, Brent looked up from the ground to see the trees parting in wind.
"What is..." He mumbled, confused. Nero stopped talking for a moment, turning around and looking up at the sky to see a helicopter swing around and into the clearing from out of nowhere. "What... What is that flying metal bird?" He shouted in bewilderment. The rest of the red soldiers were equally as awestruck
Moon WomanOne of the first things my mother taught me about hunting was always strike first. This lesson always seems to hang in my head when I leave the cabin with my bow and knife. We come from a long and distinguished line of hunters and huntresses in the village. My own mother made her first kill at the tender age of seven, the pride of her father. My own father made a respectable job out of working on the pipeline but he was never really the hunting type, mom and I always brought home the bacon.Moon Woman9 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My tall leather boots made no noise in the crunchy leaves as I silently wove in between the trees in the frosty early hours of the morning. I had been out since before the sun had risen and hadn’t spotted any promising tracks, they were all either too old or not what I was searching for, mainly marten and squirrel. I needed something bigger to beef up the freezer, like bear or caribou. A few of the Elders in the village had said there was talk of a bear that wouldn’t leave
Accuracy100 Theme Challenge Mix-UpAccuracy21 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Day One Hundred
Warnings: Slight violence
I was never meant to be in the limelight. My place was the shadows – the dark corners of our world, doing whatever necessary to protect what I hold dear. I was best following strict orders. I liked having a clear plan. I was a tool best meant for accuracy. One task, one solution. No runarounds, no decisions, no drama. Just a clear shot.
Which was why Peter usually chose to employ me as a sniper.
My kind usually have keen eyesight, and I am no exception. Sure, I can appreciate a good scope, but in most cases save for the further shots I'm required to take, my eyes alone suffice. The benefits of being a highly-evolved nocturnal predator, I suppose.
Raven is a good partner. Strong and silent. No funny business, though he does have a nice dry, biting sense of humor even I can appreciate. He and I are both suited for our roles. We hunt...silently. Carefully. Slowly. And yet with a fierceness that ensure
MarksThere is a place where every ache is visible. The people who live there learn to read each other’s skin. Even heartache has its place spreading crimson above their lungs to mark every time that the breath almost didn’t come and every time that would have meant relief. These people can see the stain of muscles screaming, the years infect the bloodstream and it is obvious when their joints become weak. A thread of red like old wounds bleeding crackles over their knees, their backs. A person in pain is painted like an artist tracing out the story of every mistake. The addicts and the prophets carry black lines where their veins should be, like their secrets are trying to crawl past that final barrier and ooze into the world.Marks23 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
These people have been trying to protect each other, but they don’t know how. The endless, careless marks still crowd the skin. Their memory is traced into their bodies, so they can’t manage to forgive, and the first sentence every child learns