8. Flash Fiction: A Dangerous Daydream
Emily Barnett hosts a flash fiction challenge on Instagram every Friday. (Flash fiction, for those of you who don’t know, is a type of fiction that is very short, usually no more than a few hundred words.) I’m sharing my contributions on my blog for those who don’t follow me on Insta. Use the button at the bottom of this post to sign up and get any new blog posts straight to your inbox.
Photo by Nicole Y-C @themcny via Unsplash.
Dry leaves skittered along the path, driven by a cool autumn wind. Rubbing my arms, I wished I’d grabbed a wrap before fleeing to wander the park. The city’s salons and ballrooms were mad with legends of faeries and wars for All Hallows’ Eve, and I’d been teased for days to mind my ways until driven to find refuge in the open air.
A gust swirled the leaves round the hem of my gown and raised prickles on the back of my neck. I let it pull my soul free, drifting in a daydream of faery tricks and battles against trolls and goblins and hags, oh my…
Pain stabbed my knee. Stumbling, I tried to shoo the errant bee away—
Not a bee, and no leaves in sight. No, I knew those bulbous heads and skinny limbs, knew the stories handed down from old.
Fear twisted my gut. Goblins.
One grim fellow poked my leg again and gestured ahead, dagger glinting in its grip. Were nearly-knee-high goblins dangerous when provoked? I didn’t want to know, a shiver running down my spine as I followed the creatures deeper into the park. Were they a magician’s trick for All Hallows’ Eve or the goblins of legend leading me to a dinnertime doom? Would I have to fight my way free of swords and soup courses only to lose my path in the shadows of strange trees?
We rounded a bend and I froze, stunned. A forest loomed ahead, guarding a clearing that roiled in purple and brown: More goblins...and a massive kettle belching steam above bright tongues of flame. Ready for—well, me.
I cringed. What would happen if I ran? Would they crunch like the leaves they’d been, or would death release their warrior souls to find flesh once more?
“Stop!”
The cry came from the woods. Lifting my skirt, I leaped toward it, thick smoke billowing up from each leaf-sized purple people-eater I crushed. What if—?
“Are you mad?” A tall boy lunged from the shadows, hands reaching for mine. “You can’t daydream while the faeries are abroad for All Hallows’ Eve!” His eyes flashed as he pulled me into the trees. “You’ll get us both killed!”
Faery tricks. Of course.
I blinked once, twice—and dry leaves skittered quietly across the path while a startled boy held my hand.