100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 078

The king lowered his hand. It was decided; they would do as the “gods” say and murder all children under ten years of age.
In this case, the gods are being unjust, the king said to his subjects. However, disobeying their commands means death for us all. 

His son and daughter would also need to be slaughtered. The gods proclaimed that if even one child escaped their fate, everyone would be destroyed.

It is a foul day for the kingdom, the king said after a moment. Yet we will go on to be better people for it. 

He of course did not believe this, but his people needed hope. 

The king’s master swordsman raised his sword and put it near the king’s son’s neck. 

The gathered people gasped.

He kept it there even after the king glared at him. 

Finally he took the sword away, but then held it up above his head.

Or we fight, the king’s master swordsman said.

The king turned fully to his swordsman, ready to have the man arrested, or killed, if need be. 

This was a time for united obedience, not doubt. 

This man who had served his father before him. Taught he, and his sister, how to fight. Was a friend. He should know better. Now he would become one of the first of many who would die protecting the children. 

As a king, he had already sentenced his only two children to death. Wasn’t that enough?

It took a moment, but the surrounding fighters also raised their swords. The nobles, and gathered men and women, raised their hands as well. His queen raised her dagger.

His two children turned to him as if looking for a sign. They then raised their swords as well.

The king lowered his head and shook it.

After a long moment he looked up. His voice came croaky at first, but soon smoothed. 

They are unbeatable. We will all die. I give you the opportunity to live. You’ll have more children. The kingdom will survive this atrocity.

The silence afterward was deathly, and could actually result in such deaths. He turned to his wife. She watched him, he could see, but from the corner of her eye as she looked out over their subjects.

The king lowered his head again, although then turned it into a nod.

Alright, he said, we fight the gods. 

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 076

White bone burst from Tom’s broken leg. The baseball bat cracked against his arm and broke that as well. 
A large brick raised into the air above Tom’s head. 

The final blow was coming. 

From the corner of his eye, his friend, Jeremy, pooled blood around his face. Teeth and bone littered the hardwood floor of the bar.

Tom smiled up at his soon to be coming demise. He laughed. The brick hesitated.

Tom kicked out with his good leg.

The brick fell and missed Tom completely, but landed on the foot of his assailant. He screamed. 

Tom took the gun from the man and shot at his guts in one movement.

He then shot the one to his left, and another to his right.

He smiled a little, but then caught sight of Jeremy again. His friend was gone forever. The smile vanished.

It wasn’t his fault.

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 075

It was a dark and stormy night when the tall dark and handsome stranger entered the lonely bar. A woman with strong locks of strawberry blonde hair looked away from her dry martini and stared into icy blue eyes that approached her. With all the control she could muster, she tore her eyes away and stared into the mirror behind the the bottles of liquor. 
The barman raised his eyebrows while polishing an already clean glass, then shook his head. 

The stranger removed his great cloak and sat next the woman. 

Her hands trembled.

The stranger spoke. What’s a woman like you doing in a bar like this?

The woman turned her head, her full blonde hair stealing all the dim light from the room. 

The woman whispered. This place is too noisy, let’s go back to my place so we can… talk.

The bar tender slammed his hand on the table between them and pointed at sign on the wall.

“No religion. No politics. No cliches.”

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 074

There once was a dog named Ralph, from birth he was never able to close his mouth. One day a bird flew inside, made a home, but found it cramped, so ate the dog’s tongue to the end, although did not see the cat (the dog’s friend), and was in turn eaten as well.
The cat said to the dog, are you alright?

The dog cocked its head to the side.

Then the cat smiled and said, Oh right I got your tongue.

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 073

The bathroom is the toilet, the loo is the dunny, the washroom is the lavatory, the thunderbox is the throne, the privy is the bathroom, the head is the bog. All of these places are where you you do number 1 & 2. FYI 🙂

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 072

Blue zigzagging light enlarges until it fills the hallway. A scream sounds from far away. More screams, and voices from a foreign place. The sound climbs to a crescendo until a man wearing black bursts from the blue light. A gun in his hands and a war cry on his lips. Another follows, and another.
They’re wearing old style North Vietnam uniforms from the war America lost. They fire guns superior to the M-16. They outnumber the American soldiers easily. And with a surprise attack using the Russian device, they would end this war in days.

Except the Russian device is flawed.

The Vietnamese cross distances to their spy by tracking unique brain wave patterns, that can not be replicated. But to a different time, and therefore a different place.

The hundred Vietnamese warriors rush into the unknown. They find themselves standing on a busy highway in Las Angeles. Rush hour. Cars, trucks, and buses head directly for them. 

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100 short fiction tales in 100 days. 071

To become a wanderer, my grandfather said, you need to be able give up everything you own. Even the friends that you thought you would have forever.
It now feels like a hundred years ago that he told me that. Giving up so much sounded like the hardest thing ever. A life of sacrifices. Not knowing where your next meal would come from. Fear of loneliness. Being sick and cold and night… It’s why I didn’t do it.

My grandfather was not a smart man. 

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