I am behind on my words, life has a way of sneaking up behind you and smacking you with a cast iron skillet in the back of the head. Now that those issues have been (mostly) handled, I think. There is no Flash Fiction Friday today, mostly cause I had errands, sick kids, and backed up housework to handle. I am about to get back to the nano thingy, am doing a read through to see what I need to do.

How are you guys doing?

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From the nano. Enjoy

Talia tucked her supplies into a small bag and set it on the table beneath the window. She took a scan around the room and froze, heart pounding loudly in her ears. The door was barred, she could see the chain still across it. Nothing could have entered the room. Not without her hearing. Yet standing just inside the door, in a crisp white nightgown, long black hair over her shoulders, was a child, looking down. Double tipped ears peeked from her hair. Her skin was so pale, and when she looked up, Talia swallowed. Blue eyes, deeper blue than any other she’d seen, except… she shook her head. She was going crazy.

“Are you lost?” Talia whispered. The child tipped her head to one side, not moving. Not blinking. “I’m sorry, but what is it you need?”

“You have to find him.” A child’s voice, but soft as the wind.

“Find who?”

The child frowned, stepping closer. “You can do it to, his trick. You have to. If you don’t, they’ll all die!” She was clutching her hands together.

“Who will die?” Talia knelt as the child neared her.

“Father will.”

Talia swallowed. Zander? She had to be dreaming. This was impossible. But, this child was half hume, and her eyes like the King’s, like Zander’s. Who else could she have possibly meant?

“If father dies, hope is lost. Don’t you see?” The child was eye to eye with her, those brilliant eyes shining from an inner light. Light. This was the new, Lady of the Light? Talia was certain of it.

“You’re the only one who can.”

“I don’t know how.” Talia murmured, but she did, somehow, she knew how to do it.

The child smiled, even as Talia realized she could see through her tiny form to the door behind her. “Yes. You do. Hurry, there’s not much time.”

Silence fell and Talia found herself staring at the door in the dimming evening light. She pushed herself to her feet, still staring at the doorway.

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Isn’t that a funny looking word? I always have to pronounce it all funky to spell it correctly. Spelling has never been my forte, I struggle with it on a daily basis. I have saved on my toolbar so I can hop over there and check words and I still get them wrong at times. It’s a struggle I work on all the time. I used to have a list by the computer (and I need to re-do it) with words I commonly struggle with such as desert (the sandy place) vs dessert (choc Sunday), definitely (I always misspell that one for some reason) and others.

So what are your methods for remembering words that always seem to elude you (if you have any, that is, some folks have great spelling. I’ve struggled to improve mine)?


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Links and Things

Amazon Wipes a customer’s account and remotely locks her kindle ; I’m sorry but when I pay my HARD EARNED MONEY on an  ebook, I expect it to be there. Yes I sell my stuff through amazon, but I don’t like it. I don’t care for their ‘customer service’ or their Kindle. My books are all DRM free because I firmly believe when my readers purchase my story it thus becomes Theirs, to read, share or delete as they see fit.


I know it was posted on the 9th of this month, but I’m behind on my blog reading so bear with me. Dean Weasley Smith’s post on Promotion is a good one worth reading. And the followup one is good; Maybe you wrote a Good Book. Go read. I usually learn a ton from his blogs, even if I don’t always agree with him.


Kris Rusch is another blog I read and she has a set of excellent posts called Why Writers Disappear.

Read them in order, take your time and read the comments(especially in the first post). It is truly eye opening.


David Gaughran has a post I thought was interesting  about Filling the Shelves, and how we can help fill bookshelves in underfunded public schools.  Check it out, what a great thing to help with.



So those are links I remembered to save 😛


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Or Samhain, is right around the corner. And I thought I’d remind people that I do have a Zombie story Help Never Came, which is a post apocalyptic zombie tale. It’s one of my personal favorites to read, too. And also a ghosty story called Playing for the Dead, about a girl who has to play a magic harp to soothe the distressed souls of a nearby cemetary. Another story I enjoyed writing, and re-reading. And yes I do re-read my own work. Hey, I write what I love to read!


Life in the post-zombie-apocalypse is full of nasty surprises and many unsolved mysteries, such as old diaries and teddy bears. After saving some fellow survivors Chris and his team find themselves stuck on the wrong side of the river with surging hordes of Zombies moving faster than normal. Worse yet, home base isn’t answering their calls.

Available At
Barnes & Noble
Xin Xii


 A hundred years after a catastrophe changed the order of things, Lizbae is sent to take her turn to play a magic harp to soothe the restless souls of the departed. To protect her village, and stay alive, Lizbae must find the courage to face the night. 

Available at:

Barnes & Noble
Xin Xii

If you’ve read them already, please leave a review.

Oh and I will mention here and now I have another zombie story in the works, a christmas Zombiething.

And Playing for the Dead is set in the same world as The Magic Maker and the Island Fluff stories (which are in edit/revision mode)


I am scrambling to finish Bastard Prince which is now sitting at just over 65k. My goal is 90k, but I suspect the story won’t be done under 100k. I need to finish it. It’s been in the works for way too long. Time to get it DONE!

Time to get to writing. Take care all. 🙂

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Snippet Saturday

So this is when I choose to share a snip of something I’ve been working on today. So here it is, in its rough, quite possibly clumsy, first draft form. Enjoy


It was little more than a hollowed out a hill that someone stuck the little figurines of Avari and Sol on top of it and called it a temple. Inside there were no seats, just mats on the floor. Zander had to breathe shallowly, it smelled of rot, of feces and a stomach churning mixture of incenses meant to cover it all up.

Zander held up his hand conjuring a small light orb. In the brighter light he could see that the clean-up crew missed some bits and pieces of the priest. Splatter covered the low stone ceiling and the mats the congregation would have to sit on. And not all of it was blood. Zander glanced at Fern who shook his head.

“Remind me to decline to go to services here.” Fern said.

“What are we looking for?” Zander asked.

“You take one side, I’ll take the other. See if we can find any clue as to who did this.”

“And hope they didn’t toss it out with the corpse.” Zander said. He ‘moved’ the orb to the center of the building, enhanced its light, and went over his side. He saw what might have been a part of a rib, more gore, but nothing else.

“Hey Zander, look back here.” Fern was behind the little alter.

“The hell?”


Have a good evening.


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ooo I missed a few days

The sick continues and RL stuff is pretty meh.

But I’ve been playing with Poser and Daz along with trying to wrap up BP (At this rate I just want to finish the damn thing before nano starts)  and trying not to feel guilty for not hitting all my goals. Life is going. Amazingly fast.

I really should cut myself some slack. I’ve got a lot going on.

Oh wow, I meant to post this last night but I got caught up writing. YAY for me for writing. And went to bed late because I was on a roll.

Bastard Prince 

57420 / 90000

alrighty folks, have a great weekend. Be kind to each other.

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Ran some errands and stopped by the library. Got booksies my pretties… and of course I forgot to take my I want book list with me. Will have to do that next time.

The plan for this week;

  • Today I need to edit a short (oh fudge I forgot all about it!)
  • Try to get as close as I can to done with BP as possible, I only have about 35, 40k to go. I KNOW I can do it. I just have to crack down and do it. Dishes and laundry will pile up though.
  • Dust off Crossroads, print it out and prep it.
  • Thursday writing post.
  • Flash Fiction Friday.

So what are your plans? What books are you reading or would you recommend I look for when I go to the library again?


Oh and a final note; the hard drive on my digi art pc decided to pursue it’s life long  dream of becoming a paperweight. Luckily everything I had on there is backed up else ware, HOWEVER, until I can get another hard drive for the desktop, I’m not sure what I will do about cover art, my laptop can’t run the graphics stuff I need for doing covers. It is also my kid’s homework computer so they are doing a total freakout.


FIXED IT!! Twin toddlers strike again! They managed to unplug the actual harddrive from the power supply. >.>



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Flash Fiction Friday

Ok, so today is Flash Fiction Friday, I do have an offering for you all. Firstly, here is a link to the other Forward Motion writers’ blogs, who are participating, here Now, this is actually the followup of the first flash fiction I wrote. #1 is over here. I didn’t realize when I wrote that one, that Rebecca was going to have any more to her story. I don’t know if there will be any more after this.

Flash Fiction Friday

Copyright 2012© Necia Phoenix

Holiday shopping, the deafening din of people buying things for relatives they only saw once a year, was giving me a horrendous headache. I leaned heavily against the crutches, wishing I’d gone ahead and taken the motorized chair. My sister cast worried looks my way, pushing the cart with our purchases through the holiday crowd.

“Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?” She asked. I forced a smile, I hurt, but we were so close to being done I wanted to finish and go home. Curl up on my sofa with the latest book, maybe sip some hot tea.

“Let’s get this done.” I glanced towards the front of the store. The lines stretched into the clothing display. I sighed.

“You go sit in the deli, and order us some drinks.” Susan handed me a twenty and made a shooing motion.


“Give me your list, you only have two more things, I’ll grab them, you get off your feet.” She made a shooing motion at me. I nodded, stuffing the twenty into my pocket. “I want a cola!”

“Okay.” I turned slowly, carefully maneuvering around a few children, and a couple talking in loud and angry voices. The way seemed far longer than it looked. I was almost to the deli when the crutch slipped and felt myself falling, too stiff to catch myself. An arm slipped around my waist, holding me up and I found myself looking up at an oddly familiar man. His dark eyes concerned. The clatter of the crutch seemed far away as he helped me upright and then fetched it.

“Are you all right?” He asked. His voice was deep and familiar. For a moment I heard sirens, smelled gasoline.

“I’m just off balance.” I took the crutch, noticed my hands shaking. I finished adjusting the right spot for the crutch and he came around to my other side, offering me his arm. I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine, really. I’m going right over there.” I pointed to the ugly orange booths of the deli.

“Take my arm, Rebecca, and don’t argue with me.”  His voice was very low, almost a whisper.

I stared at him, swallowed, and did as he instructed. I was tempted to swat him with the crutch but I was afraid I’d fall again, my balance was shot. The silence was awkward and I hobbled to the booth. He helped me into the seat, and headed up to the counter. I wanted to protest, but wasn’t fast enough. He came back, set the three cups on the table, and slid into the booth across from me.

“You,” I stared at him. The words stuck, frozen in my throat. It was crazy, unreal. He was far too good looking. He would fit well on the cover of one of the books I had waiting for me at home.

“I called 911.” He said, sipping at his drink. “Are you healing well?”

I leaned back in my seat. This was the wolf? My wolf? A whispered ‘You’re welcome’ echoed in my mind. “The doctors are pleased with my progress.” I said, haltingly unable to look away. He’d saved my life, twice. How did one talk to their rescuer? “What was that thing in the road?”

“Here is not the place to talk about that.” He said. He smiled. “Perhaps we can discuss it another time, in a less crowded place.”

“All right.” I forced myself to sip at my soda, looking towards the table, mind racing. What to say, the questions I had seemed silly to ask. Do you always turn into a wolf? Are there more of you? Stupid. The noise of the holiday shoppers began to seep into the calm. “Are you doing Christmas shopping too?” I was flailing inside, uncomfortable. He was watching me, intensely with those dark eyes.

He laughed, easy going. “My alpha sent us for some more plastic bandages.”

“Us? Bandages?”  Alpha? I bit my lip, holding back the questions. This was not the place to discuss it but I wanted to know. There was another world, within the one I lived in and I had a glimpse of it.

“My brother and I are on pup duty. The pups wanted special bandages.” He lifted up a blue plastic bag filled with several boxes inside, each featuring popular cartoon characters. He leaned forward. “We heal fast. Very fast, but they’re pups and love cartoons, so we thought we’d indulge them.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. The idea of little wolf pups with cartoon character bandages on them was too funny. He grinned, sipped at his soda and looked past me. He slid a small scrap of paper across the table.  “I have to go now. Be careful, Rebecca, especially at night.

He slid from the booth, took his cup and squeezed my shoulder. “Go slower on the turns.”

“I don’t plan on driving any time soon.” I said, looking up at him. The easy familiarity confused me. I didn’t know him, yet I was comfortable with the gentle hand on my shoulder. Anyone else I would swat their hand away.

“Don’t give it up, just because of this.” He said. He squeezed my shoulder again and strode away. When I turned I couldn’t see him, the crowd of shoppers too dense. I turned back, looking at the scrap of paper. A phone number was scrawled on it and underneath it, a note;

If you see one of those things again, or hear of one, do not hesitate to call me. Lucien

“Oh why did we decide to shop today?” Susan asked. She sank into the seat across from me and lifted the soda.

“To get it over and done with, so we can sit back and laugh at everyone else who waits till the last minute.” I tucked the paper into my wallet. I wasn’t ready to tell her about Lucien yet. She wouldn’t believe me anyways.

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October, and a bit of a rant. Warning; strong language and snark

Please note, the rant part in this, is not directed at any one person, rather has resulted in the piling up of MANY people who can’t seem to understand that sometimes people don’t always do what they want them to do. If you tend to read yourself into an unrelated rant and get offended… well you might want to skim past this one.

Duuuude what happened to the year? (I actually started to write this out and got sidetracked! :P)

Oh I know, I moved and everything went BOOM!!!

We are rapidly moving towards Nov, and NaNoWriMo. And already the naysayers are creeping out of the woodwork rolling eyes and sighing when it is brought up.

  • **sigh** you have a month isn’t it early?
  • Pre-planning is cheating!
  • true nanoer waits till oct 31 to come up with an idea…

Get over yourselves and let us have fun. I usually have an inkling somewhere in Dec, what my next NaNo project is about, 11 months ahead of time. It is a FUN time for me and I look forward to it.

Cause that’s what it’s about, don’t you get it? It’s about FUN. Sure it’s about words too, and writing a novel in thirty days (Which I can do on a regular basis if I would crack ass every month), but overall it should be, in its crazy madcap way, fun!

I can understand and empathize with the folks, you know who you are, who have tried nano and found nothing about it enjoyable. I GET you, I understand your experience was overly stressful, and I wouldn’t dream of trying to push you into trying it. No my chief issue is the people who love to complain or try to turn it into some sort of elitist party.

There are all sorts of arguments against NaNo and I usually just roll my eyes and chalk it up to people who are too busy complaining to write. But I’ve been doing nano since ’04. And letmetellya, hearing the same old complaints, the same old BS year after year gets old.

I’m not going around wasting my time complaining at the people who decide not to do it. I, personally, feel that everyone who is a writer, should try it at least once. There is an energy, a hard to describe camaraderie which comes with nano. It can be a wonderful feeling of community that lifts you up and helps you out as you go along. But I’m a realist and understand that for many it simply isn’t an option, not with the holidays and school everything else that entails, RL is a bitch sometimes.

However, I will address one of the complaints that make me want to b*tchslap people who complain about it; it’s the complaint about high volume writers. Those  high output writers who blast through nano at 100,000 words or more. I would LOVE to get to that high an output. I don’t, honestly, come close to that in a month. Not even on my good months (65k – 70k in a month is my best, and that wasn’t even a nano month!).

There are people, with nothing better to do, who believe that high wordcount = shitty words. Ok. And then rant and rave about how **gasp** high output means that you are writing shitty and therefore are to be looked down upon from some high assed horse up in the sky.


Who cares? I mean, really, haven’t they ever heard of editing? You know, the art of improving what is written. Thats what a majority of writers seem to talk about doing. Nano ones no less than non nano ones. It just kinda goes with the territory, you write a novel, whether it’s during nano or it takes 5 years, you turn around after a time and edit the damn thing. So why continuously bitch about high volume writers? I mean how is Writer C writing a double or triple nano(or averaging 100k a month), confounding your life? Are you going to lose your house, or car or job because Sally in Seattle wrote 100k in Nov? Uhm, no. No it won’t. It’s right up there with Gay marriage and donuts during dieting. You don’t like it, don’t feel it’s right for you, then don’t fucking do it! Yet people whine and bitch and moan and complain. Like it’s some sort of personal affront that “Oh Noes! You’re writing more that 2 words a month! You’re not agonizing over every fucking syllable.” 


Can you please stop bitching about what other writers are doing and actually put BIC and write? Maybe you’ll find yourself finishing projects for once. And yes I’m bitching. 8 years of hearing people whining about how awful NaNo is kinda builds up. **blows raspberries** get over that too!

I know, and count among my friends, 3 people who have astounding wordcounts. And everything I’ve read from these three people is phenomenal. It’s awesome. High wordcounts usually, in my mind, mean these people have mastered the art of getting their thoughts down as fast as they think them, or close to it. They have practiced, usually over many years, and in environments where they had to get as much down as fast as possible, to be able to articulate their thoughts at that speed. This is a skill they have worked very hard to build up. It shouldn’t be put down and complained about, it should be commended and admired.

Not everyone writes the way I do, not everyone writes the way my friends do. I know many writers in all areas and skill levels and every single one of them has worked hard to get where they are. Some of them find nano fun, as I do, some of them find it stressful, some wish to do it and simply can’t, some don’t care for it at all. Thats okay.

But for those who don’t, who protest it, who naysay it and sigh and whine and complain “Oh god here’s another nano” Just… keep it to yourself. Seriously. I’ve heard it all before. Most of us who have done it over and over again have. And you know, the arguments against it sound as silly now as they did when I first heard them 8 years ago. Turn that complaining time towards your writing, use that energy you waste bitching about what other writers are doing (which have no adverse effect on your life personally) to improving your own craft.

NaNo is MY fun time. And this blog is going to talk about it. A lot. Because it makes me happy.

[steps off soapbox]

8 years of doing nanos? I hadn’t realized I’ve been doing it that long! 0.0

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Flash Fiction Friday #3

I have this space operaish idea and this piece of fiction is set on the ship Nausica.  Hope you enjoy it;

Flash Fiction Friday #3

© 2012 Necia Phoenix

“Catch it!” Amber screamed. She and Jake dove after the flash of bright green and pink that vanished behind the boxes in the hold. They moved boxes and bags, trying to be careful but not lose sight of the rare and expensive snake.

“Where’d it go?” Jake demanded after they’d cleared the corner. They stared at each other in horror. It was gone.

Amber looked around, heart pounding. “It’s got to be in here, somewhere.” Linz, the captain of the ship, was going to kill her. Slaughter her. No live cargo. That was the rule. And Amber broke the rule. For a snake. Linz hated snakes. Not even an exotic, bio-engineered snake that glowed under a black light would be allowed.

“She’s going to kill me.” Amber whispered.

“Lets not jump too conclusions. Lynz isn’t that bad.”

“Bullshit.” Amber whispered.

“Think. The doors are closed, we put the mesh over the vents, where else could it have gone?” Jake appeared to be about as panicked as she felt.

They’d rearranged the cargo hold in a panic, looking for the creature when they realized it got loose.

“We have to find it.” Amber whispered.

“I know.” Jake pulled a flat com unit and slid his finger across the screen. Lights flickered and he lifted it up, turning in a slow circle. “Huh.”


“No heat signature.”

“Oh no.”

“Check the crates, make sure it didn’t get into one, and..”

“Are you looking for something?” A deep voice asked. Amber cringed, glancing over her shoulder. Second in Command, Gabriel, stood just inside the door.

“Shit, get out of the doorway, let the doors close before it gets loose!” Even as Amber spoke, she saw the flash of green slide between Gabriel’s feet, out the hold door, and into the hallway beyond. Jake was moving all ready, swearing as he went.

“There it goes!”

“What the hell was that?” Gabriel eyed Amber.

“Gabe, my project,” she faltered. “We have to catch it before Linz does.” She pushed past him. Jake was halfway to the control room. He stopped at the doorway, looking back at Amber.

“Linz is downside for another hour.” Gabe leaned the wall, arms crossed. “If you find it before she gets back, I might not mention this in my report.”

Jake jabbed the control panel, sliding through the doorway before the door finished opening.

“You gonna help us look?” Amber asked Gabe.

He grinned at her. “Nope. It’s your project.”

“Jerk.” She muttered, and followed Jake inside.

“He’s an ass.” Jake whispered. They crouched, looking under the large command desk and sidebar table.

“”As long as he doesn’t tell Lynz, I don’t care. Where the hell did it go?”

Jake pulled the scanner again and searched. “Not here. Vents. Crap. Two uncovered vents here,” he pointed. “And here.”

“It could be anywhere in the ship.” Amber slowly stood, defeated.

Jake gritted his teeth and left the room. Amber followed him. What the hell was she going to do? She’d spent a pretty penny for that snake. Almost two whole paychecks. If Lynz found it…

“Can the computers do a full scan of the ship for heat sigs?” Jake asked Gabe.

“It can, but there might not be enough time to make the adjustments.” Gabe was already moving towards the bridge. Amber had to half run to keep up with him. Leigh and Kurt were both on duty when they entered the bridge.

“Kurt I need you to do a full heat signatures scan of the ship. Amber’s project got loose.” Gabe said going over to his station.

“What kind of project?”

“Just do the scan Kurt.” Amber said. Kurt shot her a disgusted look, but his hands flew over the controls. On the small viewing panel next to him, the schematics of the ship flashed by, level by level, with the heat sigs of the crew in bright reddish orange. On the last one, the officers quarters, a pale white mark pulsed.

“That’s the captain’s quarters.” Kurt looked up at Gabe “What is that?”


“Even more, Captain’s signal is coming through.” Leigh announced, tone amused.

Gabe nodded towards the view-screen. It flared to life, Linz’s face dominated the room.

“Gabe, I need you station-side.” Linz said. Amber caught sight of two men behind her, heads together and talking.


“Guy named George says he knew mom.” Lynz glanced over her shoulder. “I need an assessment of these guys.”

Gabe nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Be ready to ship off when we get back. I have a feeling things may get a bit exciting.”


The screen went black, and Amber took off. She rushed out the door, down the steps and hall to the officer’s quarters. Her hands trembled as she worked the access code. She was maintenance, had the clearance. The door slid open and she crept into Linz’s tidy room. Larger than the standard rooms, the Captain’s quarters came equipped with a bathing chamber and observation window over the bed; sheer luxury. And curled up on Linz’s large, fancy pillows was the snake.

Amber hurried over to the creature. It’s got to be a girl. She likes luxury. Amber thought as she picked the snake up, whispering to her. She didn’t try to slither away as Amber carried her to the door. Gabe stepped into the doorway with crossed arms, and a scowl.

“Captain ain’t back yet.” She said, trying her best little girl voice.

“You’ll have half an hour to get that thing in your quarters, and get the holds fixed and ready to go.”

“Consider it done.” Jake said, patting the taller man as he dashed down the hall.

“Gabe,” Amber hesitated.

“Make sure it can’t escape, again. Understood?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he, turned and left.

Amber slipped from the captain’s quarters, secured the door and regarded her pet with a smile. “So now, back to what we were discussing, what am I going to name you?”



Go here to enjoy other flash fiction pieces! 😀  There is some great stuff over there.

Have a great weekend folks!!


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Thursday Writing Post

I had this rant on elitism in writing, all planned out, was going to go into detail, however I seem to have come down with respiratory infection that is just NAAAASTY, knocked me on my backside. I can deal with sore throats, headaches and body aches, but gushy gunk in the lungs…ewww just order me a new set of lungs and I’ll be just peachy, k?

I am plodding away, my plans for September were mostly rearranged. Still working on Zander, still have smaller projects to write, still need to scale back because I seem to have taken a bite too much. Again. 😛

I owe comments, I will get to you guys, I apologize.

Any ideas on topics? Guest posts? Suggestions or ideas welcome.

I was going to try to insert a youtube vid, but it isn’t working. Oh well. **waves**

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Flash Fiction Friday #….uh…2?

This piece was written in 2007, all I know is it was in a folder called Atrioth. I vaguely remember it, but I don’t know where I was taking it. There may be more to this story. It has been tightened up a bit.


Flash Fiction Friday #2

Copyright 2012 Necia Phoenix

An infant wailed in its mother’s arms. The tribe gathered closely, and was, Kergon thought, a bit too anxious to see the final verdict of his brother’s trial. He glanced towards his brother, Anaron, who stood with his hands tied in front of him. The rope so tight, his fingers were purple. Kergon tried to meet his eyes but Anaron’s gaze was fixed on some point beyond the river.

“Don’t, Kergon, you’ll just make it harder on us all.” Eitys, Kergon’s other brother, hissed into his ear.

“This is wrong. He has done nothing…”

“Shut up. We’ll next if you don’t.” Eitys hit him on the back of the head. The crowd stirred and parted, giving way to a tall, gaunt man. He stepped up to Anaron, peering at him with narrowed eyes. Kergon frowned. Until yesterday, he too, would have been in awe of The Shaman. He’d respected him. Now, it took every ounce of self-control to not tear him apart.

The Shaman turned his head, peering at Kergon and Eitys. Kergon fancied The Shaman was reading his thoughts. Kergon hoped he could; he wanted The Shaman to see himself laying torn and bloodied on the cold ground. How dare he accuse his flesh and blood!

“”You have been caught using majki. A crime punishable by death…”

Whispers erupted, someone protested though was hushed by nearby tribesmen. Kergon smirked and met The Shaman’s eyes. Anaron was a popular man, a good hunter, and a provider. His death would not be easily achieved even if he had used majki. The Shaman narrowed his eyes, and raised his hands, not breaking the glare with Kergon.

Can you see what I am thinking, old man? Will you commit yourself to death if you expose me and yourself?  Kergon felt it then. Fear. From The Shaman. Radiating towards him, fear and hate. Kergon inhaled, heart pounding.

You will slip up. Like Anaron. The Shaman’s voice echoed in his head.

I am a Seeker. Like my sire, I can be forgiven. Can you? Kergon imagined The Shaman, impaled on his own staff. The man’s face paled and he looked away. No. He was supposed to stamp out majki, not use it himself. Only the Seekers could get away with it. Anaron, though, was no Seeker.

“Instead of death,” The Shaman’s voice was strong, though he gave no indication that he and Kergon had crossed minds. “It’s decided, by the gods, that Anaron shall be exiled.”

Kergon blinked reeling in relief. Eitys hissed something under his breath. Kergon felt the light mental touch against his mind as Eitys made a few suggestions. Kergon smiled. This wasn’t as bad as he feared it would be.

“If any wish to accompany the accused, do not expect to return any time soon.” The Shaman glared at Kergon.

Kergon shrugged it off and stepped beside Anaron.

“Ker no, stay…” Anaron began to protest.

“No.” Eitys took a place beside Anaron. “We’ll leave this nest of backstabbers and snakes. We’d have no safety here anymore.”

Silence stretched. Eitys flashed a grin at Kergon and cut the leather straps that bound Anaron’s wrists. Kergon turned toward The Shaman.

“You wanted us gone. We leave. Consider this though, who will hunt for you now? Perhaps if they get a good kill, like Anaron, you’ll accuse them of majki.” The crowd stirred, whispering. “Who is willing to take that chance?” Kergon rested his spear on his shoulder and gave a mocking bow to the crowd. He turned without another look back at the people who had been his clan, and followed Anaron down the footpath to the river. A small raft bobbed in the gentle current, tugging against its moors.

“You two would go into exile with me?” Anaron turned to look at them. His voice was a bare whisper, thick with emotion. “There is nothing in the wilds, no future for either of you.”

“We’ll follow you into hell and back if need be.” Eitys clasped his shoulder. “We stick together, brother. Always have, always will.”

“There is nothing here for us anymore.” Kergon shrugged and pointed at the raft. “Let’s go.”

Anaron looked back and forth between them.


The End…?

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