Flash Texts

“A frog’s eye, the claw of a still living tiger, the femur bone of your enemy.” The raspy voice said, “See, I told you it would be useful to keep his corpse.” The old wizard looked up from his book and stared at the small goblin at the other end of the dark room. “The hair of a virgin and the heart of a pet. Gnarl, go and fetch me one of those canaries. And don’t forget the treats!”, he barked out the order while he gathered the other ingredients. “With this spell, I will finally be the most powerful. All will bow before me.” He talked to himself as he rummaged through the blacked shelf. As he returned to the desk the door slammed open. A burly creature with its belly poking out from under its armour stands in the doorway. “Sir, uhm. Them are coming!” he says stepping from one foot to the other. “Who is coming? Boron, you must be more precise! Who is coming?” the wizard said annoyed as he picked up the ingredients and threw them into the pot. “Them ‘eros. Them about to enter the gravey...

  He jerked up from his sleep, franticly rubbing his face and arms as if to get rid of something. But he did not remember what he dreamt. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the world around him, a small clearing surrounded by pine trees and wild shrubbery reached out into the clearing. The smell of a fresh stew reached him, and he saw his friend crouching beside a small fire with a small iron pot. They looked at each other and smiled. Together they enjoyed breakfast, his friend passed him a cup of nettle tea. Yet they said little. Both knew what they had to get done today. He looked up above the pines towards the looming mountains that surrounded them, their peaks not white but black and bleak. As they stepped back into the forest the light seemed to go out, even though it was just morning it was a perpetual twilight in the forest, and as soon as the two of them entered his friend started talking about the unnaturalness of it all, they have seen no animal for days, even the insects we...

Let me take you into the dark forests. The people claim that the forests are not evil, nor do they do any harm. Yet traveller be weary, once you enter them, you will not return! Their trees grow proud and wide and far apart. Yet their canopies swallow even the brightest of lights. The deepest cave is more welcoming of life. The locals come and go as they please, they say. As if they know the safe paths, but you cannot see any going in or out. Just standing at the edge of them you hear the tree crackling as if they are moving, ghosts screaming and mocking you, you hear the hollow clattering of bones of the lost souls. Stepping inside the forests instantly transports you into another world. Moss hangs from the branches and the little light that shines through the canopy beams down in the tiniest shafts dancing across the floor as the wind plays with the leaves in the sun. Yet the same wind chills your bones even through the thickest clothing. Quiet at first, then louder there is laughing...

The three adventurers looked at each other before entering the weird looking cave. Almost perfectly circular, not even an even ground to walk on. For the past few weeks something has been pestering the local village and the three of them were asked to check it out. Not wanting to pass their first chance at adventuring they agreed and set out, without asking many questions. All that they knew is what George learned while getting pissed again in the tavern. The farmers told them that some fields are losing some crop, while others were completely ploughed over. One farmer even claimed that his dog vanished during a very rough night with a lot of earthquakes, but most just assumed it just ran away from him. All three of them now looked at each other, none making any gesture to move. Then Silvya just shrugged her shoulders and stepped in, followed by Borval and then George. Stepping through the entrance only the sunlight lit their way, yet it got not too far into the tunnel, so they lit som...

I know I am late already, I will post the other text as usually. No excuses other than my mind being not where it should have been. What would I give to know more? To know what others, think and others do. Is there something I should stop doing? Is there something I should keep doing? Is there something I stopped doing, but should pick up again? What would I give to have a little spy that tells me more. This or similar I imagine that the spying started. Wanting to know more than one should. Maybe there was once someone that was good at learning information and sell it off for profit. Sure, it might almost certainly Started with gossip. But it evolved from there. To snitches and then finally to the spies we know of today. Embedded in organisations, gathering intel and betraying it to the superiors, who do who knows what with it. But I sometimes would like to know what people think of me. If I should or should not have done things. It would help me being better and improving. But are the...

There they are. Fresh of the press and ready for duty. They are arrayed up with all their brothers ready for duty. One by one they are shipped out into the wild to help people. Most of them will be used in supermarkets helping people carrying all their groceries. Some are sent out to books stores or hardware shops. Some select ones will store their brothers for future use. But most of them will be discarded. Thrown away to linger. To see time pass. Some will make friends only to see them decay. Others will go for a swim and hitch a ride with one of the many animals, only to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean. For a few years they stay in the dark. Being ripped apart by the forces that tear at it. Some will end up with their friends, holding on to each other and all their brothers that were made before them and all their cousins, cursed to float the seas for all eternity watching civilization fall and hoping that the next might be able to relief them from their immortal pain. On...

  The sun burned down as we all sat in the clay hut. The host offered us tea and apologized for not having much to eat. We graciously accepted. The hear was almost unbearable, yet the house was still somewhat cool. The translator explained that the hut was built in the traditional style. It allowed for a continuous air flow and kept out the heat as much as possible. After exchanging some pleasantries Tom asked for what we came for. We’ve heard that this man owned some manuscripts from before the fall of the Mali Empire. We didn’t know what these manuscripts are about, because the man never learned how to read. As the translator asked for them the mans face grew stern and his smile vanished in an instant. He looked at us gravely. He explained to us that for generations they have protected these books and scripts. The whole village stood up against assailants to defend them from being stolen. He said that his family has been the keepers of them for a very long time and he would not b...