The Line - A Flash Fiction Dark Fantasy

"Do not cross the line."
Most of us have been told not to cross a line. Usually it is meant metaphorically, designed to keep people in check.
Not in our family.
No one crossed our line. None of us dared.
While were not told any details, the stories of what would happen to us, should we dare to cross it, where as variable as our personalities.
Some of us considered trying it out.
According to family records, some did.
But none reported back to tell us what was behind the line.
They never made it back.

Still on this side of the line, live was not that bad. We had everything we needed, everything we could even wish for. Isolated, but cared for, we went on our marry way, each and every day, just like everyone else would. Following through on our duties, getting married, raising children. Live happily until our old age. Usually until very old age, as our family was filled with seniors that grazed our presence until well into their 90's.

But the line was always there.
Starring us in the face, taunting us, warning us of a world on its other side.
Questions arose and where forgotten, not answered with anything but knowing smiles of those whom had more knowledge then the person questioning.
Those who even dared to ask.
Most of us did not.
Most of us just lived.
And did not cross the line.

Maybe it was my red hair, which gave my grandfather the inclination to call me his Fire-Child. Maybe it was that I was named after the Greek Goddess of War, Athena. Or maybe it was all that and the combination of my youth that did not allow me to stay silent about a rule that was never explained, never questioned, never disobeyed.
I was different.
I questioned everything.

And got punished plenty for that.
But it did not matter to me. Everything was better then to follow mindless rules and standards, I did not choose.
After all, I was Athena, the Firechild.

I waited until everyone was busy with their duties. Bustling amongst themselves, absorbed by their routines that felt as restraining as leather reigns that held a bucking horse.
The steps through the garden were crossed quickly, and I stood before what was the chance to move toward the unknown.
A last glance upon my family, a breath, and I, the Firechild stepped beyond was, into the New.


                             

The Pendant - A Friday Flash Horror Story

The line to the pendant was long, as it was every year.
Our family was growing, after all, and everyone who was old enough to read, took part of the yearly blessing.
As usual we were exited, the chatter in the line was loud enough, that Grandma turned our way frequently, hushing, finger pressed at her lips, which were curved with the light and kind smile that grazed them often.
Oh how much we loved these moments!
Presents where already opened, our stomachs comfortably filled with the feast of ham, and sausages, duck and stuffing, pie and cookies which we had indulged in earlier. As a family filled with wonderful cooks who’s love poured in each morsel of deliciousness,  we savored food, gatherings and the warmth that came with it.
Never was there more then  a stern word, never did our families table be disgraced by quarrels, that occurred in so many families during the holiday season. We all really wanted to be there.
To enjoy each other.
And - to receive our blessing.

We knew that with each word the pendant revealed, another great year was brought forth, it’s power sharing a favor, that would resonate throughout each day of the coming year.
Last year, laughter had been the most common word and indeed the joyful sharing of fun had been more exhilarating then I could ever remember.
The anticipation was great, watching one by one moving closer toward my Grandfather whom held precious pendent that had been in our family for as long as anyone could remember.
It was beautiful, delicately gold framed, with an interior that appeared to be onyx, but no one was quite sure, as its depth when stared upon any other day, then the holy day of the Solstice, seemed endless and all consuming. The small sapphires sparkled in the sunlight, that glowed through the open bay window, our hairs moving gently in the soft breeze.
Two more before me.
One more.

A scream pierced the light scene, swallowing our living room with a darkness it had never embraced before. The chill in the air was felt by everyone whom had frozen in midst movement, their eyes gazed toward the blackness of the pendant whom for the first time held more then one thought, as it directed it self toward my older sister.
No one moved, no one seemed able to move, so I broke through to look upon the dreaded words that had brought forth a scream, and it was my turn to be consumed with chill.
“All Fun Must Find An End”, I read allowed, my words seeming to remove the spell of silence from the room, as everyone poured toward the scene to get a glimpse of the words I had spoken.
Everyone but my sister.
I turned toward her, as she had not moved since her uttering of despair, frozen more then we all had been, stiff and cold, staring forward toward my Grandfather, who whispered her name, then louder and louder.
“Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, NAADDIIIIIINEEE!”
I looked up to find her beautiful gaze, only to be rewarded by the black emptiness of the pendant, now borne deeply into her eyes.

Claudia Blanton Copyright 2013

Stolen Moments - A Friday Flash Fiction Romance

“I am not sure how I can go on home, pretending everything is okay.”
“I know you can. You are the strongest person I know.”
“Not without you.”
“You are not without me.”
“You will be hear, three flight hours away, and I will be home with him. I am not sure I want to go home. I feel torn.”
“Yes you want to.  For now.”
“I wonder if we ever learn to let go. How long it will take us to move forward.”
“You know I can't answer that.”
She sighed, and he smiled, kissing her gentle with a longing that always aroused a mixture of passion and sadness in her.
He could not have her.
She could not have him.
They both had to go back to a life they did not want to live.
Stolen moments.
A few hours, sometimes a day or two, together.
Their hearts never really apart.

“He won't really notice that I am back. Not that he ever notices me anymore.”
“Too busy with managing your wealth, I guess.”
“You mean spending it.”
“Why don't you cut him off?”
“Because.. “, her voice trailed off.
“Because you feel obligated. Because his family helped you, so you could get to the point of being as successful as you are. Because you think he was here for you, when you had nothing.”
“All true“, she answered with resignation.
“Still, you know better then to allow him to take advantage of your wealth and your fame.”
“Bestselling novelists are not famous.”
Some are, you are. Ever heard of Stephen King?"
“Very funny, Dan.”
She paused touching his cheek gently, as he closed his eyes for a second at her loving touch..
“Leave her.”
“I can't, you know that.”, his voice heavier with sadness then before.
“I will not leave a dying woman alone in her last few weeks of life.”
“She has lived longer then expected, two years longer.”
“Because she is a fighter.”
“You still love her.”
“No, but I do care for her. She is kind. Almost too kind.”
Mary sighed and rested her head on his chest.
They stood in silence for a moment, until the beeping of the alarm set on her smart phone brought them back to reality.

“You have to go. Don't miss your flight.”
She kissed him once more gentle but short, then straightened herself, her face now filled with the professional smile she put forth most of the time.
Unless she was with him.

Stolen moments.

“Call me.”
Not waiting for his answer, she walked quickly through the front door.

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

A Little Compassion - A Flash Fiction Short Story

"Mrs. Phillips died."
"I know."
The young woman in white sighed. "Family has been notified?"
"Of course. But no one has arrived."
"Still not. She's been here for two weeks."
"I wonder.."
"Wonder what?"
"If they even knew how much she liked this story."
Melinda smiled.
"The little prince, yea she told me too. Not exactly the average reading for a 42 year old woman."
"She loved it. She told me, that she would read it to her son every night, when he was a child."
"Then he should have been the one reading it to her.", Melinda answered low, but with a harshness that defied her kind eyes.
"It's okay, I didn't mind."
The woman in white hugged her friend, then handed her a chart.
"New patient. Mrs. Walker. End-stage breast-cancer. Could you?"
Terry nodded with a sigh, grabbed the chart and moved out of the nurses station.
"Of course."


Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Cop - Flash Fiction Story

Grieving families.
My personal nightmare.

And I am a part of their nightmare.
I have to poke into their lives, dig deeper then anyone would like me to.
Really, I do care.
Still, I have to do my job.

It is not my fault, that I uncover mistresses and secret bank accounts.
I am aware of the dilemma an no longer hidden drug problem will be for the family and with your friends.
Yes, I am sorry to hear, that the man in the bag, being driven away,  is someones father. Someones friend.
It touches my soul deeper then I will ever share with anyone, and definitely not with you
.
Even my wife, and absolutely not with my children.
Keeping a brave face for their sake.
And for yours.

Never-less, the scars this and every death leave upon my soul, are deep.
They wake me from each sleep, never restful, always disturbed.
Nightmares of tangled bodies, and the ability of human disdain of one another.
How can people be so cruel?

Yet, between the wanting to drown your and my sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey bottle, I return.
I always return.
Because someone has to.
Someone has to clean up, make sure that at least some of those scumbags will be locked up, away from you.

So I return.
Again.
Tonight.
My badge and gun always in reach.

But the question remains.
How can I survive another death?

Aftermath

I am the shadow
cleaning up
human brutality
left in the wind
after your imprint
disappears

I am the absolution
your transport
to another dimension
blood collector
bone crusher
alone

I am the solution
breaking whom
brought death
upon this place
in the morning hours
darkness gone


I am the mourner
at your destination
tears streaming
as the afterthought
of your life
passes through
left behind

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Ultimate Power - A Flash Horror Story

Ultimate power.
What a wonderful presents to receive for one's 18th birthday.
Or was it?

Terry contemplated his next move.
Should he use this gift for his own gain? Play the lottery and get the winning ticket? Bet on horses? Sleep with Beth?
He sat upon the old, worn out couch of his mother's, the flowery cushions barely softening his seat.
How about revenge on Master Stevenson, the bastard who drove over his beloved cat?
Another option would be to take care of that freaking eye sore of a house across the street, INCLUDING the loud brat pack that lived there, finally allowing him to sleep through one entire night.
Being rich and famous could be interesting as well.
Choices, so many choices.
Terry smiled and closed his eyes.
Trying to decide alone would be fun beyond measure, more fun then he had in a long time.
But of course, after his nap.

                                                                                     *


James gazed upon his sleeping brother.
The Chosen One.
The First Born.
If he would have been the first born, the gift of Ultimate Power would have bestowed upon HIM.
HE would have been the one making choices, not Terry.
And he would have made them faster then that boy in front of him.
It was not fair, never fair, his entire life always playing the second fiddle was bad enough, but this was the last straw.
He could not take it anymore.
Not for one more second.

                                                                                     *

Diving the Henkel's Chef knife into his brothers abdomen was easier then expected. The quality of the knife his mother always praised, loudly proclaiming her prize possession, was a perfect murder weapon after all.
Easy to handle, not too heavy, not too light, a masterful balance.
The blood soaked the flowery couch and cushions, but he was not too concerned about that.
His mother deserved a new couch anyway.
Picking up the box that contained the Ultimate Power, he grinned from ear to ear.
Yeah, getting rid of everything in this dump would be the second thing he would do with his gift.
After all, he was now The Chosen One.


Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013