Flash Fiction Friday: Week #79

Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.  

And here is picture prompt #79: 

Treasure Seeking
By Michelle Greathouse

Eleni tossed another energy ball, taking out two of the guardians in one shot.  “Nice.  Keep it up and we’re home free.”  Nik plucked another throwing knife from his endless supply and carelessly tossed it over his shoulder, lodging it unerringly in the right eye socket of one of the remaining guardians.

“I can’t keep this up much longer.”  Eleni said.  “I’m running out of energy.”  To prove that point her last energy ball fizzled as it hit, just managing to catch a guardian on fire, who then stopped, dropped and rolled - putting himself out before any damage was done.

“I would be more than happy to help you recharge Eleni.  Just say the word and I am all yours.”  With a final throw, two knives - both hands, Nik took out the remaining two guardians, turned and bowed with a flirty grin.

“Not even in your dreams Nikolai.”  As a Tantric witch Eleni derived her powers from all things sensual, sexual and earthy.  Actual sex was the quickest way for her recharge - but right now, sex was the last thing on her mind.  Especially sex with Nik who thought the sun rose each morning just to catch a glimpse of his cock. 

With a flick of his wrist and a mumbled retrieval spell Nik’s throwing knives returned to their proper places.  “I’m ready if you are my lady.”  Nik pointed Eleni to the stairwell.

The two made their way down the crumbling stairs to the small dock below.  Just as Nik said it would be, an even smaller boat was awaiting them.  Eleni shaded her eyes from the lowering sun and took in the tower ruins.

“Nik, I know it’s a little late for second thoughts - but are you absolutely sure that you can trust your information?”  Nik waited until Eleni was safely seated before stepping into the boat and taking his own seat.  He took his time answering, untying the boat and placing the oars in their holders first.  

“I am sure Eleni.  The information came from Henrik and he owes me.  I saved his life, not once, but twice.  He said the artifact we are looking for is rumored to have been buried in the towers years ago.  The fact that guardians tried to stop us from reaching the stairs leads me to believe it hasn’t been moved.”

Eleni looked thoughtful.  “That makes sense.  Those guardians were old magic, easily dispatched with energy and silver.”  She looked around at the tower ruins.  “Which tower holds the artifact?”

Nik sighed.  “Henrik didn’t know.  We must check them all - but my gut tells me to look in that one first.”  Nik pointed to an arched tower.  Eleni could just make out the carved ruins that completely covered the arch and when she closed her eyes, she felt a wave of energy pulsing with the beat of her heart.   

She smiled.  “I believe you might be right Nik.”

The little boat made steady progress and before long Nik pulled them inside the arch, floating around the tower until he found the doorway that would take them inside.  

Nik tied the boat to a hook he found imbedded in the tower and steadied the boat as Eleni climbed out.  Once she found solid footing, he followed.

The doorway was a black gaping hole.  Eleni tried to form an energy ball - but got nothing more than a fizzle.  That was enough for Nik to see a torch hanging on the wall.  He reached in and grabbed the torch, muttered another small spell and the torch began smoking.  Nik blew gently on the torch, feeding the fire until a blaze caught.

“That’ll do.  That’ll do just fine.”  With another smile and a small bow, Nik entered the doorway - Eleni close on his heels.

The End
Word Count: 634

I hope you enjoyed this one.  Have a great weekend! 

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #77

 Dottie over at Tink's Place has come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.  

And here is picture prompt #77:

In The Name of Honor
By Michelle Greathouse


Valeria moved through her chamber quickly, practice had been especially harsh and she longed for a bath.  She placed her sword on the table and removed her outer armor, relishing in the cool breeze that prickled her overheated skin.


“My, my.  What a lovely sight.  Will you be removing the rest of your clothing?”  Valeria whirled, sword in hand.  “How did you get in here Lex?  Get out, now!”


Lexor E’Lan chuckled, ignoring the sword and Valeria’s threatening stance.  “I unlocked the door, my dear.”  He taunted her with a key.  “No locked door in this compound will keep me from going where I want to go.”


“You overstep your bounds Lex.  I don’t believe this is what the king had in mind when he appointed you first command.” 


Valeria walked around the table placing as much distance between herself and Lex as possible.  It was a useless effort, Lex followed her - backing her into the wall.


“Oh Valeria.  When will you accept that you will be mine?”  His hot gaze raked her from head to toe.  “I will have you, whether you will it or no - and there is not a frekking thing you can do about it.”


Valeria gasped as Lex sent a wave of power through her - forcing her head back and locking her muscles.  She closed her eyes against the pleasure/pain surging within her core.  She hated Lex with every fiber of her being - but at this moment she wanted nothing more than to have him inside her.


Fighting the impulse his power wrought within - Valeria closed her fist around the pommel of her sword.  If only...


With a primal scream Valeria opened her eyes and lunged with her sword.  Lex opened his mouth in silent wonder, glancing from Valeria to her sword sticking out of his chest.  


Valeria walked over to the comm unit, called for security and sat down at the table to await their arrival.


The End
Word Count: 334


I hope you enjoyed this one.  It has been so long since I participated - but I love the picture and the story immediately came to mind.  :)  

M.M.F.F. Challenge: Week #63

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.  

And here is picture prompt #63:

Destiny Awaiting, Pt 2
Destiny Revealed
By Michelle Greathouse




“Here dear, you better sit down.”  Gamma pointed to a set of maroon Queen Anne chairs positioned in the corner of the spacious mausoleum.  


Roni sat, took a deep breath and began to look around the place her Gamma now called home.


Between the Queen Anne chairs was the antique table that had sat beside Gamma’s bed for as long as Roni could remember.  Atop the table was Gamma’s favorite Tiffany reading lamp and the latest Gena Showalter book with a book mark at the half way point.


Roni had inherited her love of reading from Gamma.  And apparently death had not put a damper on Gamma’s favorite pass time, if the full book case on the opposite wall was any indication.


All around the marble crypt Roni saw touches of Gamma’s life before, from the Persian rug on the floor to the overhead Tiffany chandelier hanging from the ceiling.


It looked like Gamma had just severely downsized.


“So, Gamma.”  Roni cleared the frog from her throat.  “You just hang out here and read.”


Gamma giggled.  Giggled, that has to be undignified for one of the previously living.


“Oh no.  Some of us get together fairly often.  Sissy, down by the Betty Boop statue, has cable and every Sunday we would gather and watch True Blood.  Now we’re watching The Walking Dead.”


Gamma is a ghost and she gets together with other ghosts and watches vampires and were’s and zombies.  


Roni needed a drink.


“Gamma, this is all confusing and somewhat disturbing.  You shouldn’t be watching True Blood - there are a lot of nekkid men in that show.”


“Honey, I’m dead - not blind - and that Alcide Herveaux can run nekkid through my woods anytime.”  Gamma giggled again.


“Oh, hell.  I need to wash my brain with bleach.  I do not want to think of my Gamma and a nekkid man.”


Gamma sat back in the chair and composed herself.  


“Let’s talk about why I asked you here this evening Veronica.  The women in our family have an amazing ability.  We can see and interact with the dead - with ghosts.  Those beings who for some reason have chosen to stay on this plane - those who feel they have unfinished business.”


Gamma looked at Roni with an expected smile.


“Come on, Gamma.  I know for a fact that mother has never seen a ghost in her life - and if she did, she’d just give it the cold shoulder until it had the good sense to move on to someone else.”


“Veronica, your mother is not as cold as she can appear.  You know she loves you - and she loves me.  This is what we had a disagreement over all those years ago.  The ability we have skips a generation - your mother can not see ghosts - and she did not want me to talk about my ability - and she certainly did not want you to possess this abilty.”


“Mom knows about all of this?  She knew it would happen to me - and wanted me to be blind sided by it?  Wait, if I can see ghosts, why have I not seen one before now?”


“You do not inherit the ability until the previous holder passes on - meaning - until I died.”  


Roni threw her hands in the air, "Great!  I’m a freaking ghost whisperer."


“Language, dear.  I did not forget my manners when I died, you shouldn’t forget yours either.”


   

The End

Word Count: 577

I hope you enjoyed this installment.  Have a great weekend.     

M.M.F.F. Challenge: Week #61

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.  

And here is picture prompt #61:

Destiny Awaiting
By Michelle Greathouse


Lightning lit the sky, just in time for Roni to dodge the cobble stone that would have surely sent her stumbling to her knees.  The clap of thunder that followed shook her to the core.


Of all the dumb ass things a person could do - rambling around a cemetery in the middle of the night - during a lightning storm, no less - was right at the top of the ‘dumb ass things to do’ list.


When the UPS truck pulled into the drive this morning, Roni was tickled, thinking that she was receiving a new batch of review books.  As the UPS man handed her a registered letter, she was confused to say the least. 


After signing her name, Roni took the heavy vellum envelope and sat on the sofa.  She could not explain the sense of foreboding that envelope triggered - almost a primal need to run, fast and far.


Shaking off her trepidation, Roni opened the envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper, the same heaviness as the envelope.


She glanced first at the return address, and was relieved to see her grandmothers name, her chest eased immeasurably.  She read:


My Dearest Veronica,    


I would imagine that you are quite surprised to be receiving this letter six months after my death.  I do apologize for any unease you may be feeling.


As you know, your mother and I were estranged the last ten years of my life.  For this I am profoundly saddened.  I realize that you were placed in the middle of our disagreement, even though we both tried our best to keep that from happening.


We never wanted our feelings for each other to tarnish how you felt about us.


It is for this reason that I had this letter delivered now - the day after your twenty-first birthday.  You have come into your majority and all of your inheritance is yours for the taking.    


But there are other, less material things that you've inherited.  Things your mother does not want you to have.  Your rightful inheritance.  


I will say no more and leave the decision to you.  If you are the woman I know you to be, you will be intrigued.

Come to my crypt tonight at midnight.


Your destiny awaits.


All My Love,
Gamma       

Gamma was right, Roni was intrigued - and smart enough not to tell her mother where she was going.

But now, with the lightning flashing and the thunder rumbling, Roni wished she’d told someone where to find her.

She took the last right, between Betty Boop and a statue of the Archangel Gabriel, and stood before her Gamma’s crypt.  It creeped her out a bit that light was shining from within.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the heavy door open, just as the sky let loose with a torrent of rain.

Roni entered, quickly turned and pushed the door closed, blocking the wind and rain from following her inside.  “Great, looks like I’ll be getting wet on the way back to my car.  Why didn’t I bring an umbrella - or a boat?”

She turned at the sound of a throaty chuckle.

“You never were one to prepare for the unexpected, dear.”

“Gamma?  What the hell?  You’re dead ”

The End
Word Count: 542

I know, it has been way to long since I participated in MMFF - and I missed it.

Hope you liked this one.  I’m hoping to be able to continue it for the month of October - we’ll see how it works out with the pics.

Have a great weekend

M.M.F.F. Challenge: Week #54

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

And here is picture prompt #54:

 

Lost..and Found
By Michelle Greathouse

Elenora looked around her and was appalled at what she saw.  Why had Philip allowed the beautiful garden to fall into such a state?

She wanted everything to be ready for the arrival of the baby.  After several years of marriage and dozens of disappointments, Elenora was ecstatic with the pending birth.

Gathering the skirt of her dressing gown, Elenora turned to head back into the manor and stopped, hand flying to her chest, a gasp lodged in her throat.  The manor was in disrepair.

What madness was this?

“Philip.  Philip, where are you?”  Elenora stepped gingerly around the overgrown weeds and gave a wide berth to the cracked and crumbling cement of the patio.

She reached the french doors only to find them locked, she banged on the doors and yelled until her voice was a harsh whisper - but still, no one came to the door.

Placing a protective hand on her protruding stomach, Elenora eased herself onto the bench beside the unyielding door and sobbed.

Elenora startled at the clearing of a throat, “Excuse me ma’am, are you Elenora?”

“Yes, oh yes.”  She blotted her face.  “Philip.  Is that you?”  The man looked so much like her Philip - but he was older.

The man approached cautiously.  “No ma’am.  I am Charles, Philip is my father.  May I sit?”  He indicated the bench Elenora perched upon.

“Yes, please.  Where are my manners?  I would offer you refreshment, but I seem to be locked out of the house.”

Charles sat, a sad smile upon his face.  “You are more beautiful than your pictures.”  He cleared his throat.  “Tonight is my birth day.”  He checked his watch.  “According to my father, I was born four hours from now.”

He began his story.  A story about a man and woman who loved each other very much.  A woman who was so happy to be expecting her first child.  And then the sadness of her death in childbirth.

“My mother never had the chance to hold me and my father was so distraught, he left our home, taking me away and never returning.  The thought of living in the home without her - was too much for him to bear.”     

Elenora once again wiped tears from her face.  “You poor boy.  My heart breaks for you and your father.  He must have loved your mother very much.”

“He did.  He never re-married.  He is older now, almost seventy and his health is declining.  He has lived a full life and is looking forward to being reunited with my mother.”

Elenora thought for a moment.  “I do not wish to seem uncaring, but what has this to do with me?”

Charles reached for her hand.  “The story is about you.  You are my mother.  For years I have heard tales of a woman walking the garden one night a year - the night of my birth - and tonight, on my forty-fifth birthday, I wanted to see if it were true.”

“You mean I am dead.  I have been a ghost for forty-five years?”  She paused.  “I wanted - no, I needed to meet you.  To know that you are alright.”

The two spent the next four hours talking and laughing and yes, crying.  Charles showed Elenora pictures of his family.  His wife, Constance and his children, Hank and Nora.  Yes, Elenora after his mother.

As the dawn came and the sky began to lighten Elenora placed her hands on Charles’ face, one on each side and gently tilted his face down.  She placed a kiss on his forehead and smoothed his hair back.  

“Thank you my son.  I have been lost for so many years and you have found me.  I can rest easy now and need not return.  Promise me one thing.”

“If it is within my power, Mother, it is yours.”

“This house was meant to be lived in - to hear the ringing of children’s laughter echo in the hallways.  Come back.  Make this your home.  Be happy.”

As the first rays of sun streaked the sky pink, Elenora smiled at her son one last time.  “I love you Charles.”

“I love you Mother.  Be at peace.”

Elenora faded.

Six months later Charles and his family moved into the manor, four months after that his father passed away.

It has been several years now and Elenora has not been seen.  Charles is sure that his parents have finally found peace.

The End
Word Count: 760

I hope you enjoyed this one.  It was a little sad.  Have a great weekend.

M.M.F.F. Challenge: Week #52

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 

And here is picture prompt #52:

 

 

I can certainly continue from last week...I just have to decide what direction to take my story.  :)

 

I can't believe this is the 52nd picture prompt.  One full year of flash.  I know, I have slacked a bit and not participated in the full year - but still, a year.  :)

 

Check back on Friday to see what I can come up with for this prompt. 

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #51

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 


And here is picture prompt #51:

 

Striking Cobra
By Michelle Greathouse

The streets were alive with the sounds of morning activities.  Vendors called out to draw attention to their wares, children sped by on their way to school and businessmen hurried to the first meeting of the day.

Takeshi watched all with a calculating eye.  His target, if true to schedule, would pass this way any minute now.  Every morning was the same, a leisurely stroll down to the docks where he ran his illegal activities under the guise of a legitimate shipping company - stopping first for a cup of tea and morning repast at the café he bought for his youngest mistress.     

In his arrogance, Orochi held himself above other men, thinking no one would dare to question his authority, to denounce his cruelty.

But someone had.  And they had contacted Takeshi, an assassin with a sense of honor.  Takeshi had no qualms about killing - men, woman, rich, poor - if they were deserving of death.  But he did not kill for fun or sport.

Orochi did.

Men, women, children - all were potential players for Orochi’s entertainment.

Takeshi heard whistling, a tune he recognized from his own childhood, and turned to see Orochi sauntering down the street.

When he drew nearer, Takeshi fell in step behind him and followed to the nearest alley.  Quick as a cobra strike, Takeshi pulled Orochi into the empty alley, pulled his knife and without ceremony, slit Orochi’s throat.

Takeshi wiped his blade on Orochi’s overly expensive suit and left him laying in the alley.  The kill was quick and almost painless - more than Orochi’s deserved.

With one final look, Takeshi left the alley, blending once again, with the morning commuters.

The End
Word Count: 287

Short and sweet!  I apologize once again for my lack of participation in MMFF lately - summer time has just been busy.  LOL  

School starts back 8-8, so hopefully, I will have more time for my writing.

Have a great weekend.                         

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #45

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 


And here is picture prompt #45:

Party Like A Rock Star
By Michelle Greathouse

Dax secured his earpiece, “Banks can you hear me?”  The feedback was scratchy, then leveled out.  

“I hear you.  And I would like to take this time to protest this undercover assignment once again.  As a non-practicing feminist lesbian, I find this whole ensemble degrading and masochistic.  My boobs are squished and spilling over the top of this dress.  I’ve had to strap my guns to my nekkid thighs and the harness is chafing like a mother fucker.”

Dax had the nerve to laugh.

“Well, we wanted Simon to wear the dress, and though he has some killer legs - he left a lot to be desired in the cleavage department.”  Simon smiled at the compliment.

“Banks, I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”  The young security tech swivelled his chair to check the  readout on his monitor.

“I’m not Simon...though there was that time in college.  I decided to go vegetarian when Ashley Monroe became my lab partner...but that was years ago and now I’m back to eating meat.”

“I didn’t know you went to college, Banks.”  Simon - clueless, but brilliant.

“Well it wasn’t your MIT mister smarty pants - but I did alright."  She sighed and shook her head.  "Simon, have you ever been laid - by anyone?”

An alarm on Dax’s watch beeped.  “We’re up.  Cut the chatter unless it goes pear shaped.”

Banks exited the limo and took a minute to re-arrange the folds of her long black dress, covering any bulge her guns might leave in the fabric.

This was the break they’d been looking for in a year long murder investigation.  Fifteen girls dead - all over the world.  The first found in the states - then bouncing from country to country.  

Piecing everything together, a pattern emerged.  The murders seemed to follow the tour schedule of the heavy metal goth bad - Dead Heart.  But Dax and his group were at a stand still as long as the band was out of the country.

Now, at the end of the tour, the group were back in the States - and tonight the bands manager, Rod Stratton, was hosting an end of the tour party at his mansion.  He was their killer - and tonight, they were taking him in.

Banks stopped at the entrance and flashed her smile at the goons flanking the gate.  She pulled her invitation from her tiny bag and handed it to goon number one, who glanced over the invite while goon number two eyed Banks’ girls.

“Go on in.”

Banks made her way up the stone staircase - all the while scanning for Rod Stratton.  This place was huge, she was thankful Simon had downloaded the blueprints, it would make her search easier.

But luck was on her side.  As Banks rounded the pool she caught sight of Stratton heading towards the bar.  She angled her way around the costumed party goers and sidled up to the bar.

“Can I get a rum and coke”.  Banks propped her head on her hand and waited for her drink.

“Hello pretty lady.  Having a good time?”  Stratton spoke to her breasts.  Dirt bag.

“I am.  Thank you.  It is so exciting to be here.  This is a beautiful house.  Can you believe it?”  Banks played her part of overwhelmed groupie to the hilt.

“I can.  This is my house, would you like a tour?”  Stratton was in host mode.  Banks wanted to get him as far away from security as possible before she took him down.

“I’d love to see the gardens, the fountains are beautiful from up here.  I can’t imagine what they’d look like up close.”

Stratton took her arm.  “Then off to the gardens we go.”

They did not speak as they made their way down the staircase.  Once on solid ground again, they took the lighted path that led them around the sculpted hedges to the first water fountain.

Stratton released her arm and pointed to the fountain.  “What do you think?”

Banks punched him in the face.  “I think you are a piece of shit.  And you are under arrest for the murders of fifteen young women.  You have the right to remain to silent....”
 
Banks lifted her skirt and pulled her cuffs from the harness on her thigh.  Once she had Stratton cuffed and contained she stepped back and took a good look at the fountain.  

It really was pretty.

She could hear the sounds of utter chaos coming from upstairs.  The calvary had arrived.

Score one for the good guys.

The End
Word Count: 762

Okay, this was totally something different for me - I went Contemporary with not one bit of Paranormal.  Huh, I really didn't think I could do it.  LOL

Hope you enjoyed it.  Have a great weekend.    

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #44

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 


And here is picture prompt #44:

 

The Needs of the Many...
By Michelle Greathouse

They came for her just before sundown, and she offered no resistance.  It had been years, generations really, since anyone had made this sacrifice.

The village prospered, untouched by disease or strife of any kind.  The villagers had grown complacent, had forgotten the bargain made that kept everyone healthy and happy.

Until now.

There was unrest in the forest.  The youngest in the village had no idea what had changed - but they sensed something was different.  And they cried, unconsolable tears that ripped at the hearts of their parents.

Delia’s brother was the same.  He cried day and night for three days, finally succumbing to sleep through complete exhaustion.  Delia heard her parents talking late into the night, recounting stories their grandparents had told them as children.  Stories of those that must be satisfied.

The Elders in the village called for a town meeting and the people gathered in the square, volunteers were called upon - hoping someone would step forward before the elders were forced to choose.  

Delia volunteered.

Her parents protested - but neither volunteered to take her place.  The village sighed in relief, a huge burden lifted from their collected shoulders.

No time was wasted, Delia made hasty goodbyes and returned to the only home she’d known for her entire sixteen years.  She bathed and washed her long dark hair - if for no other reason than to drag out the time.  Once finished, she sat and waited for them in her mothers kitchen, clad only in her robe.   

Lost in thought, the heavy knock startled her, but she rose and opened the door to find two of the village Elders standing stiffly at the threshold.

“Delia, it is time.  What you are doing is a brave thing.  The whole of the village is indebted to your unselfish sacrifice.”

Odd how Delia was now being called brave and unselfish - when those self-same villagers called her head strong and haughty for turning down several of their sons marriage proposals.  

They walked her to the edge of the forest and watched as Delia made her way to the clearing - then they fled.  No one had every witnessed what transpired in that clearing and they were not about to be the first ones to do so now.

Delia stood still, head slightly back and eyes closed, tears coursing down her face.  She felt the breeze stirring, almost a caress, and released the breath she’d been holding.

Gentle tugs at her hair caused her to gasp, but she settled again as a feeling of calm suffused her body.  She never felt the branches that ran up her legs, affixing themselves to her calf and thighs.  Or the ones that attached to her waist, back and arms.  By the time the branches entered her skull, Delia was already drained to the point of death.

If anyone had looked back at the clearing, the only remnant of Delia would have been her discarded robe.

They were satisfied - for now.

The End
Word Count: 507

Well that is certainly different. :) I hope you liked it - kinda creepy, I know.  But I’m pleased.

Have a great weekend.

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #43

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 


And here is picture prompt #43:

No Good Deed...Blah, Blah, Blah
By Michelle Greathouse

Jack removed his hat and lightly smacked it against his knee, knocking as much of the rain water off as possible.  He was glad the rain had stopped, the downpour had made watching his back a little more difficult than he liked.

He checked his watch, fifteen minutes left in this God forsaken place.  He crossed the street and entered the bar his passenger had chosen as the meeting place - and immediately all eyes turned his way.  This was definitely not his usual haunt.  Hell, it wasn’t even his usual dimension.

As one of the only two known dimensional shifters, Jack Donovin was accustomed to standing out while waiting for his passengers - but somehow, he just never got used to the feeling of hostile eyes turned his way.

Jack sat down at the bar and ordered a house special - he always ordered a house special, paid for it and left it sitting on the bar.  He wasn’t stupid enough to drink anything - but his money usually bought him the time it took for his passenger to arrive.

He was very clear in his contract.  Money up front, no refunds and he never waited past the appointed return time.  If the passenger got in trouble - he or she was own their own.  Jack was not into illegals of any kind and he had a strict policy - he would not shift anyone to another dimension to break any kind of law.

Jack checked his watch, one minute left.  Damn, he hoped he wasn’t leaving that young woman behind.  Laurel Martin seemed capable, if scared - but Jack didn’t ask for details.  As long as she agreed to the terms, he agreed to transport her.

The alarm on his watch beeped and Jack rose from the br stool and made his way to the door.  He reached out to grab the handle and almost had his hand knocked off, the door was thrust open so hard.

Ms. Martin had arrived.

“I’m sorry.  It took longer than I’d hoped.  But I’m here and ready to go.”  She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder.  The bag was huge - but it did not look any fuller than when they’d arrived.

Jack nodded his head and Laurel followed him out the door, across the street and into the alley they arrived in. Jack held out his hand and Laurel took it without hesitation.  He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, focused on his destination and jumped.

They arrived in his office.  “Are you going to throw up again?  He thrust his trash can at Laurel who had sunk into one of thread bare chairs in front of his desk.  The desk he’d had since college, the one that was being held up by a stack of phone books because the right front leg had broken in half when he and Cindy Melvin had sex on it the night before graduation.

Ahh, memories.      

“No, I’m fine Mr. Donovin.  I just need a minute.”  Laurel sat her bag on the floor and it sighed.

What the hell?

“Ms. Martin, what’s in your bag?”  Jack hated complications - and that bag just became a complication.

“Nothing, thank you for your help.  I need to be going now.”  Laurel grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

The bag grunted.  And then began to cry.  Laurel sat down on the floor, tears running down her own face and opened her bag.  

“This is my son, Caleb.  His father took him the night he was born and jumped to another dimension.  I have been looking for him for four months and I finally found him.”  She gave Jack a fierce look.  “I will not let him go again - ever.”

Jack sat down on the floor beside her.  “Tell me everything.”

She began.  “I am a witch.  Barely really, I can scry, teleport within a two mile range - defensive magic only.  My great grand father was a shifter like you.  But as you know, so far, it seems that only males develop that talent - and not very many.”  She removed a bottle from the bag and began to feed Caleb.  

“My husband found out about my great grandfather, and my own latent abilities and thought that if we had a son - he would have a good chance of being a jumper.  I found all this out the night Caleb was born.  My husband orchestrated the entire thing.  Our ‘accidental’ meeting - sweeping me off my feet.  The whole whirlwind romance.  It was just part of his agenda.” 
   
Jack listened without comment.

“My husband wants to rule the dimensions - and he is willing to use Caleb to do it.  And I am determined to make sure he does not succeed - even if it means I have to kill him.”

This day was just getting better and better.

While Jack was listening to her story, he was trying to figure out who her husband could be.  He knew of no one by the name of Martin who would have the power to even attempt what Laurel was talking about.

Giving up, he finally asked.  “Ms. Martin, who is your husband?”

Laurel would not meet his gaze at first and Jack thought she would not answer his question.  She sighed and moved Caleb to her shoulder, patting him gently and moving her hands in a slow circle.  Moments later, Caleb released a burp too large for someone so small and Laurel smiled a gentle smile only mothers’ seem to have for their young.

In a voice filled with resignation she responded.    “My husband is Dominic Perillo.”

Well hell.  “Dom Perillo, the crime boss?”  Jack rose and went to the window, lifted the ancient curtain and scanned the street.

The lights went out.

The End
Word Count: 973

I went way over the word count - but I had to get it all out there.  This one was so much fun.  :)

I hope you enjoyed it.  Have a great weekend.
 

Flash Fiction Friday: Week #42

Amy C over at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take. 


And here is picture prompt #42:

The Final Challenge
By Michelle Greathouse

Lyral removed her helm and surveyed the damage.  Bodies littered the ground, some dead, some dying.  She was the cause of it all.  Change was hard for most.  Lyral wished for change, for peace - but the only way to obtain that change was by force.

Ironic to think that peace could only be obtained through death.

She walked over to a patch of soil, now loose and softened by the churning of many feet, and drove her blade deep - removing as much of the blood from the blade as possible.  Not the best way to treat a blade such as Varise, but effective all the same.  

Lyral was covered in blood, some her’s - most not.  She had fought ten warriors this day.  One after the next.  As soon as one dropped another was sent to take her place.  Lyral was given no quarter, no reprieve.  If she wanted change badly enough - she’d have to earn it.  No one was going to give it to her.

She eased her weight onto her left leg and felt the pull of her calf muscle, that was going to hurt on the morrow.  The cut across her right arm had finally stopped bleeding, a quick inspection proved it was not too deep.  Just another scar to add to her collection.  Minor cuts and bruises marred her body - but she could live with those.

If she survived this final challenge.

Lyral waited as her final opponent casually walked across the vast expanse of dirt.  Tall, she stood nearly six foot - topping Lyral by just a hair.

“Very impressive, I would expect nothing less from you.”  Darva inclined her head.  “You’ve incapacitated some of my most valiant warriors.”

Lyral knew every one of those warriors.  Some she called friend.  All were family of the heart.  That she had to hurt them, kill them, was more proof that Darva was no longer fit to lead.    

She smiled.  “Shall we proceed?”

Darva placed her helm over a head of copper curls that normally hung to her waist.  For this battle, as all others, she had it braided into a single thick plait down her back.  

Lyral secured her helm over her own auburn hair and took a deep, steadying breath.  She turned and faced her last challenger - in a fight to the death.

She sent a silent prayer to her goddess and prepared to kill her mother.

The End
Word Count: 435

I have missed the last three weeks of Flash and apologize.  May was a very hectic month. :)

I hope you enjoyed this one.