F-Zero: Seppuku Tales - Turkey Blow Up DayF-Zero: Seppuku Tales - Turkey Blow Up Day3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
This Tale contains spoilers from the entire saga. Do not read unless the entire three part saga has been read first. This is what we consider a 'Part 4/3' Tale, taking place where the Part 3/3 Epilogue left off.
Additionally, it is highly recommended that you first read the Tale titled 'Clover', otherwise, the reader may become lost.
Warning, this Tale contains the following: Sexual themes (mostly implied/mentioned), mentioning and/or consumption of alcohol, pagan (but fictional) beliefs, LGBT themes, and minor cussing.
As an additional warning, I'm going to go ahead and start off admitting that this is not a particular Tale I'm proud of. It was one of those rare situations where I had a bunch of funny jokes made, but no good plot. Henceforth, it's sort of a big mess of jokes. Still, it's F-Zero: Seppuku and I need something to represent Thanksgiving with. It's not a bad Tale, just not comparable to any of the other Tales.
== Turkey Blow Up Day =
A middle-aged Chiya stood
The LekThe sun shone bright and cold over the northern plains, giving little heat at this boreal latitude. To the southwest the LeBeau Mountains loomed, their snowy caps shining a blinding white. Great herds of animals roamed the plains, gorging on the local plant life, building up energy reserves for their long migration south.The Lek1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
There was something in the air; an electric tingle, a thick haze of pheromones. It was rutting season, and all across the plains bulls of all species were vying for mating rights. This was a dangerous time of year. Driven into a frenzy by their hormones, young bulls were eager to vent their frustrations on anything they could find. Preoccupied with the primordial urge to continue their genetic legacy, they became easy pickings for hungry predators. Many bachelors would not live to see the next migration.
The clear springtime air was shattered by a deep brassy honk, and two mountains of flesh and bone collided. Forgetting their audience, the two bulls trumpeted and sla
PnF Se que esta vivo...CAP. 6PnF Se que esta vivo...PnF Se que esta vivo...CAP. 65 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Isabella.-En donde estamos?
Phineas.-Parece un tipo de resistencia...
Fernando.-Pero es que no entiendo. Como...ella...es imposible...
Phineas.-Todo es imposible...
Ferb.-No puedo creer que no me lo haya dicho todos estos años...
Isabella.-Seguramente tiene que tener una razon..
Isabella.-No lo se...pero no pudo haber fingido todo esta tiempo...
Se escucho un pequeño llanto detras de la puerta, intentaron acercarse mas pero
las sillas lo impedían. Se escucharon unas personas hablar...
-Katalina estas bien?
-N-no..-dijo entre sus sollozos...
Isabella.-Es...es ella....es Katalina!
-No puedo creerlo, porque tengo que hacer eso a mi familia...
-No era que te encantaba ser mala?
-Si, pero no con ellos. Piensan que lso traicione, pero es por una buena causa ser malo...por ellos...
-Tranquila, hablaras con ellos. Lo entenderan...
-Entender que? Que soy una de 'ellos'? que...sirvo para el mal...
crates and shells- - -crates and shells4 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
Bags, tarps, metallic clinking and clanking as Omid filtered through the supply containers. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he was even supposed to be in here – that one boy Jace seemed to take up the mantle of leader fairly quickly after they'd landed and Omid had seen him handing out supplies to a hunting group earlier, but... well, no one could fault him for wanting to find fishing supplies, right?
Not that he knew much about the process himself. String, bait, a water source. Hopefully non-radioactive fish. What he wouldn't give to have his textbooks again. Omid sighed, standing up for a moment to rest his knees. Behind him lay about four large containers that he'd carefully sorted through, though now he wishes he'd found some paper and pencils to document what was inside. And in front of him countless more awaited.
- - -
For a long moment Elamere stared blankly at near to nothing, her mind wondering out of exhaustion. The hunting at night was probably the wo
Giving of ThanksGiving of Thanks3 days ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
"Here, go ahead and try this."
"The composition of this substance is particularly nutritive for human consumption. I detect a considerably large percentage of beta-carotene and... fibers beneficial for digestion. It is also... 'sweet'. I am certain that is accurate usage of the word."
"What do you call this substance?"
"It's called 'Pumpkin', pureed. I'm sure you can identify what a Pumpkin is."
"Yes. Pumpkin. Fruit. Genus: Cucurbita. Native to North America. It has a thick, fleshy shell which contains the inner fruit, fibrous strands and seeds. It is commonly used-"
"Hahaha. Thank you, but the complete description isn't necessary. Suffice it to say, you know what a Pumpkin is, and now you know what it tastes like."
"I am... unsure why this, in particular, was necessary."
"Well, that's easy. Don't you know what day it is?"
"Thursday, November twenty-seventh, two-thousand and fifty-nine, Common Era... oh."
"Today is the da
The Capris HerderMurgha Durandeet was up before dawn, as usual. She got ready for the day by the light of a single candle, shivering in the cold of the early morning. Though at this hour the sun was only a faint glow on the western horizon, outside the thick walls of her family’s mud-brick house she could hear the chirping of birds layered over the rasping grunts of the livestock in their pen.The Capris Herder1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes
She wore a formless knee-length brown dress of spun cotton, over which she pulled on a short green and brown robe tied off at the waist with a thick sash. She wore no shoes; not only because the soles of her feet were as thick and tough as old boot leather anyway, but also because she hadn’t owned a pair since she was three years old. On her head she placed a round flat-topped cap, a traditional Tartos head covering. Finally, she hefted the bandolier off its hook on the wall and draped it over her shoulder to hang across her body. It was heavy, loaded as it was with rifle ammunition in individually po
The MessengerThe woman came to Gingloa at the head of an army, riding under the banner of House Agares. Though the majority of the army remained outside the city to set up camp, the message was clear: whatever the woman was here for, they would be wise not to deny her. As she rode down the central street accompanied by a retinue of mounted soldiers, the people stopped to watch her pass. Whoever she was, she was very wealthy. She wore a hauberk of steel maille over a knee-length crimson aketon, and over that her armor was thick scales of gilt steel worked in the shape of feathers. Pinned to her shoulders was a cloak of crimson silk. Her pointed helm with its long nasal guard was steel, and at its peak were fastened three red feathers of command. A fringe of steel scales hung from her helm to cover her face and neck, but as she looked across the upturned faces of the townsfolk they could see she had the olive skin and dusky eyes of the Garanic tribes of the central Markheb. Her mighty gerThe Messenger1 day ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes