Rewritten and republished. Originally published on fictionspawn.com December 13. 2016.
They could feel the cold draft from the door opening. With it came fear, running down the hall, hundreds of small animals shrinking in terror. Steps. Slowly down the path. A snort. Spit. He stopped. He was standing in front of her cage. The man. The man of death.
They were four in their cage now. Number twenty-three was lying dead in the corner. He had been for quite a while, he was starting to smell.
The sound of the metal lock. A door opening. She ran in circles, incapable of getting anywhere.
The door closed. It wasn’t her this time. It was number twenty-two, another one of her siblings. He was carried over the floor. The man stopped. Picked up the death stick. The little animal was fighting to get loose. No one had ever escaped.
The man held him up in the air…
Another rock fell from the roof. The tunnel was shaking.
-So the time has come, said Bargan.
-We have to get out of here! His grandson Bilk was looking up the tunnel.
-There is no out of here. The tunnels and the halls are the world. Where would you go?
-There has to be some place somewhere. There has to be!
-The tunnels further down have already fallen. We knew the end was coming, even before the war. We’ve won, but the prophecy we cannot defeat. The world will fall. The tunnels will be destroyed. It is inevitable.
Bilk went home to his tent. He refused to accept there was no way. Yes, they could not fight the Fall, but they…
Through the bushes he saw a worn little house, overgrown, almost covered by vegetation.
It was getting dark, soon it would be too dark to see. He could hear thunder. It was going to rain. He walked up the path towards the door, overgrown with bushes, spines and thistles. Rain started falling.
He entered the house. It was warm inside, and it smelled fresh, clean. It looked kept.
Hello? He tried, but there was no answer.
He started walking down the hallway. It seemed to go through the whole house, with doors on each side. He could hear the clock on the wall…
This story has been rewritten and republished, originally posted on fictionspawn.com August 5. 2017 as “Dragon’s Breath”. Some major changes have been made.
Ali and Migue had been walking through the forest clothed hills of the Chinese Xinjang province for days, up towards the mountains. The landscape was…
-So, there we go! Pete put the seed in the dirt.
-Now all we have to do is wait. Miriam grabbed the watering can and poured some water over it. -In a week or so we’ll know how it went.
-I can hardly wait!
They went into the lunch room for a coffee.
-Finally we can get some decent sleep…
All characters are fictive.
There was something coming this way. Something big. The forest was unquiet, the animals were running, screaming. Kilkili and Boas exchanged a look. Boas had never seen his brothers eyes like this. So wide. So scared.
The Kembera family were respected for their hunters and warriors. Now a khakhua, a demon witch, had infected their village, taken control of one of their own…