Flash Fiction #5

The Sacrifice

"The Gods love you, you are their favorite child among men".
She refused to look at the priest uttering the soothing words. She was afraid, and it took all of her will power not to shake like a leaf. She felt cold in her thin linnen dress. Her feet felt even colder, it was as if the fear made her doubt the warm light of the Gods.

I am their favorite child, she whispered to herself as they put a ruby to her forehead.
"Now the Gods will find you in the next life. A holy beacon of light. A sacrifice for the will and good of all mankind."
The ruby was sticking to her forehead with some kind of glue and it smelled  badly. It almost made her forget her fear. She closed her eyes for a moment and heard music. It was coming. Closer and closer her doom was coming. A deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked around. There were priests all around her in the cold marble hall. They all looked at the door with joy on their faces. The door slowly opened and she could hear the priestesses singing. The last one carried her crown. Her iron crown of red red roses. Deep breath. Nothing to fear.

"Holy Sister, we welcome thee," they said and kneeled before her. The one holding the crown gave it to the priest by her side.
"You will enter their holy light," he said and placed it on her head. Then another joined him and she screamed out in pain. She could no longer hold it inside as the iron spikes cut into her skull.
She dropped to her knees with blood streaming down her face. She looked up at the opening in the ceiling and soon light emerged. The sun kissed her face and blood dripped down on the floor. She felt warm.The crown was feeling heavy and she was tired. So very tired. They lift her up and carried her to the pool in the middle.
"Bless you", they said as the hold her under water and it grew dark.

Det känns lite som varför uppdatera, jag har inget att berätta. Jag har redan en blog där jag skriver om böcker. Men skulle inte vilja ge upp så...bilder *axelryck*

Midsommar

 

Flash Fiction #4

Power was fleeting. One minute you held it in your hand, the next second it was long gone. She hated the days when she had magic, and she hated the days when she had none. She wanted to be like everyone else, to feel like everyone else. Well everyone else in the land that had magic. Instead she was called The Cripple. The poor poor girl who had so little control that she let her magic run away at times. Like she had a choice in the matter. Magic had a will of it's own, and why it did not like her she did not know.

It had been a couple of days and Arina had spent the time in the stables working. Her father always told her that if she could not keep up with her studies then go out and help instead. Like she was some bloody farmhand! She grumbled as she brushed one of the horses. Then, then she felt it. Glorious and powerful, she felt it in every part of her body and she rejoiced. She had magic again. She opened her hand and saw little sparks come out of her fingers. She threw down the brush and ran to the main house. But before she could rush into her father's study she heard something and stopped.
"The girl is useless, why even teacher her?"
"She is my daughter."
"She will never be whole, you know that. We need to take it away, she can't be half and if she realise, well then all hell will break lose."
"My daughter would not turn on us."
"All Dark ones do in the end, that is those whose power we have not taken."
Arina backed away from the door, all the way until she was outside again. Then she ran as fast as she could and did not stop before she reached the woods. She was not dumb, she had a lot of time to read when she could not study magic. She knew about Dark Magic, she had just not realised that that was the reason magic feared her. She was meant to practice dark magic instead. A smile formed on her lips and she opened her hand and a flame shot from her fingers. One sad little flower dying and she had never felt more powerful in her entire life.