Collection of flash-fiction pieces - most 300/500 words, contest entries |
Competition Notes: ▼ Joss helps me lay his sister on the broken dais. “Will this work?” he asks. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot. I don’t know if any deity will hear me, or even if they’ll answer, but I don’t know what else to try…” I reply. The lycan venom coursing through Wren’s veins is wreaking havoc with her internal organs. Her breath is laboured, and blood is leaking from the bite marks that mar her shoulder. I’ve cleaned and dressed her wounds with the salves I liberated from Sister Mari’s shelf in the Coven’s apothecary. I’ve done the best I can, but we’re running out of time. I kneel at her side; my palms pressed into the cool earth and look into the tree line that surrounds us. I’m not here for the Goddess’ help. I’m here for my ancestors. Knowledge is power, and as a necromancer, I’m calling on theirs. “Please,” I beg, “I know I’m not welcome here. But… I cannot save her without you. She’s important to me.” “An Anam Cara is indeed important,” a voice whispers. “To save a life, you must risk death. Subdue the venom with what kills a wolf.” “Wolfbane…” I stutter in disbelief, “She needs wolfbane.” “Are you crazy?” he shouts. “She’s dead if I do nothing. You asked for a miracle. This is the only one I have.” “Do you even have any?” he asks. “I dug some roots up a few days ago, it’s in my pouch.” Joss sighs, “What else do you need?” “A fire. Some rainwater. Use this." I toss a copper bowl and point to the rain catchers. Once the tincture has brewed, I dip a clean gauze into the liquid and press it to Wren’s lips. She will survive this night at least. |