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#FlashFicFeb Day 8

Weapon  ‘How long have you been out here scavenging?’ Jarrah asked, looking at overturned cart. ‘Only got here a few days ago,’ Koen responded, also looking at the overturned cart and thinking about how long it will take him to get it upright. ‘No, I mean how long have you been out here alone, walking these forests, avoiding the wastes, and trying to stay alive,’ Jarrah turned to look at Koen. Koen stared back at them. ‘A very long time. Don’t know how many years,’ Koen said. ‘I don’t really care either.’ Jarrah sighed, bent down, and lift the cart upright. Easily. As if it were not heavy and overloaded with the detritus Koen had collected. ‘How… how did you do that?’ Koen asked stepping forward. ‘Well, because I’m so ‘strong’,’ Jarrah said flexing their small bicep. ‘No, really. How did you do that?’ Jarrah, still flexing their bicep, pouted. Then extend their other hand to towards Koen, reaching for him. Jarrah’s eyes flickered with purple strips of light and as they slowly clenched
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#FlashFicFeb Day 7

Inspiration Today’s writing will be slightly different. Today will be able why I am doing this. Why I’m writing and what the fuck this little world I am creating is. I picked up a copy of Fallout 1 at shop called the Berlin Wall Software Supermarket. I had spent the week there doing work experience. Thoroughly boring stuff. But the whole week I was eying off the game. There was something about it that was drawing me in, so with $30 I’d earned at my shitty weekend job I bought it. Saturday morning my friend came around to play it with me. He HATED it. So much. I loved it. Like, obsessively loved it. That day I left it alone, my friend and I hung out. But every day for the next year I played that game. It started an obsession with post-apocalyptic content. Films, books, games, comics, anything and everything that had a post-apocalyptic tag. I guess dystopian stuff as well, but nothing could beat something with a wasteland in. Imagine my surprise when I found Fallout 2! I say

#FlashFicFeb Day 6

Oath Markus drew the jagged blade over the palm of his hand. The blood welled in his hand and when he drew his fingers in, clenched his fist the blood ran over his whole hand and dripped on to the floor. The Engine in front of him glowed bright red from the fire that burned inside it. The steam billowed from the top of it in an impressive display of its power. ‘With the blood of my body I join myself to the power of the Ancient Engine,’ Markus spoke aloud. ‘I bind myself to the Knowledge and the Power that the Ancient created to bring light, life, and death to the world. I do this with full awareness and with the thoughts of future and the past in my mind. The pressed the wet open wound onto the red-hot piece of iron. His face twisted in agony, but he did not scream. The twelve hooded figures standing in an arc around Markus remained silent.

#FlashFicFeb Day 5

Challenge ‘Get up,’ the eyes said. The voice did not connect with what he was looking at. What he saw was the night emboldened into life but what he heard was calm, smooth, and slightly metallic. ‘Come on,’ the eyes said again. ‘Get up.’ A singular gloved had extended down to Koen. Koen stared at it, and then at the eyes, and didn’t move. ‘Fine,’ the eyes said. The figured moved away, quite gracefully, and sat down on smooth flat rock. It let out a heavy sigh and then proceeded to remove the dark mask it wore. Koen didn’t realise it was a mask, of course he thought it was the creatures face. Until he saw the creatures face. Human? Maybe… perhaps one of the elves that are seen from time to time, but this was different. The skin was pale white, with sharply pointed ears, and black eyes. Black eyes. Completely black. They ran their hand over their short, almost shaved, hair and scratched their head as if they’d been wearing the mask for a long time. Then they looked back at Ko

#FlashFicFeb Day 4

 Sky A vast blackness interspersed with the glowing white balls of light. Flickering gently in the sky above occasionally blocked by the slow passing dark, water laden clouds. The movement of Old Folks space tech could be seen flashing as they floated by in their unending loops of the world. They are beautiful and mysterious, and Koen could not for life of him remember laying down to stare at the night sky. But slowly it came back to him. As did the smell. The putrid damp smell of rotting flesh. They had been on him, hit him even, but he couldn’t remember anything else. My head hurts , he thought, a lot. Reaching his hand to the back of his head he felt the egg that had grown from the impact and felt the sticky, semi dried blood. He could see that most of his cargo was still there, his precious loot, as was he. As was he. He was alive. He had never heard of someone being left alive by a mindless wretch, every story was one of death and horrible death at that. However, here h

#FlashFicFeb Day 3

 Heart Koen’s blood was pumping hard through his body. His heart felt like it was going to burst, and each gasping inhale burned his lungs. But he pressed on. Legs moving like pistons, running at full speed was not possible because of the heavy load of the cart in front of him but he still moved just enough to outpace them. His pursuers did not have the speed he had, but they could go the distance. Their mindless shambling was constant and unwavering even if it were not swift. The wretched souls behind him are the result of too much time in the wastes. Too much time to the east or to the west in the lands that were burned by the Old Folks’ Science. It’s impossible to imagine what it might be like to lose complete control over your mind. To be reduced to the most basic of instincts and at the same time lose the precise control you once had over your body. They are a sad case. But right then, they were attempting to rip Koen apart, so he had no time for sympathy. He only needed t

#FlashFicFeb Day 2

     Time There’s never enough of it. Ever. Regardless of what you may think. Of how much you have ‘planned’. There is never enough time. Except for those that have no baring of time, those who have lost all connection with time and the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and even years all meld into one another. For those like Randall Gray, watching folks that die so soon spend so much time doing the most mundane tasks is baffling, but curiously entertaining. The young man in question has spent to the good part of the day rummaging through piles of rubbish. As if he will find what he needs amongst the ruins of the old folk and not within himself. Gray can feel the raw power flowing through him, but it appears the young man has no idea. Like he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know.