Sword (Flash Fiction)

The young maiden gasped, amber eyes wide. Her lips trembled as she looked down at the sword sticking through her chest. Then she lifted her gaze to her attacker. It was none other than her lifelong friend. They had grown together, cried together, laughed together. Fell in love together. The person she trusted most. While it was true that Anne was considered nothing more than a handmaiden to the rest of the castle, Princess Marie called her sister.

The heir to the throne blinked as she felt her blood running down the front of her gown. “Why?”

Anne gritted her teeth, holding the sword in place. “You know why!”

Tears ran down Marie’s cheeks. “I-I don’t.” She gasped for air at this point.

Despite herself, tears welled up in the handmaiden’s eyes. Seeing her friend in such a pained state. But she persisted. “Yes, you do. You sent John to his death. We were going to be married.”

The princess’s eyes fluttered, and she struggled to remain balanced. “I always supported you and John. I don’t, I don’t have that kind of…authority.”

Anne’s expression twitched. It was true that the princess did not have the ability to carry out executions. “But…but–” She cut herself off, looking down at the cold stone floor. “They talked. They all said you wanted him dead. That you begged your father…”

Marie swallowed, though trickles of blood came out the corners of her mouth. “No, Anne.” She choked. “You, you have been blinded.” A short breath. “Fooled.”

The handmaiden’s mouth opened and closed. Yet, no words came. Her dark eyes searched her sister. “Marie…”

The royal heir struggled. “I thought…I thought you trusted me. I trusted you.” A final breath escaped her, and the last thing she saw was her lifelong friend weeping. Her eyes finally fluttered close. She didn’t know what had caused this confusion in Anne, but she knew one thing before her death. It was not the sword that cut her heart.



Long (Poem)

*Author’s Note: I decided to write either a short story or a poem for each of the drawings that I complete for Inktober. I know I’ve been rather absent on this blog for the past few(?) months. I’ve been letting life get in the way of my muses, so I’m hoping the daily challenges will help jump start me back into writing on a more consistent basis. As I didn’t decide to do so until this morning, there may be a few posts that go up today. This poem goes with the drawing I made yesterday.

How long will you lie
Up until the time you die
Something that’s inevitable
Completely unavoidable
Lining your tongue with silver
The truth isn’t even a sliver
You have no meaning of trust
All your relationships bust
You can only blame yourself
When you put honesty on a shelf
There is nothing you can say
That’ll justify you devious ways
Prepare to forever be alone
All that you loved will be gone
Who wants to be around a liar
I’m better off standing in fire
You’re a ruthless, insensitive soul
Convincing others lead is actually gold
Up until the time you die
I’m sorry that’s how long you’ll lie

Words of Warning

Be careful who you scorn
The most beautiful roses
Have the deadliest thorns
Be careful who you betray
Most will leave you
Maybe a few will stay
Be careful who you love
Wings of hope will only
Take you so far above
Be careful who you part
The hardest organ to mend
Is a badly broken heart
Be careful who you trust
Seemingly nice people
Can turn into a bust
Be careful who you fear
Those who make you scared
Will cause more than tears
Be careful who you worry
You may never know
How much you affect a story
Be careful who you share
One wild bird may return
While others wouldn’t dare
Be careful who you kill
Even an alive presence
Possesses a haunting will
Be careful who you scorn
The most beautiful roses
Have the deadliest thorns

Black Ice and Demise

Just because I wear mask doesn’t mean I’m hiding. Just because I look completely different from my usual self doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of who I really am. Just because I wear black doesn’t mean I’m mourning. And just because I was trained in the way of the ninja doesn’t mean I’m an assassin.
But everything I’m trying to prove right is wrong. I am trying to hide. I am ashamed of my real self. I am mourning. And I am an assassin.
I am Black Ice.
And true to my name, I can be hard to see. Occasionally, my invisibility is great enough, I can’t find myself. I’m left wandering through the world, trying to find my true self. All the while wondering if my new identity can be trusted.
Frankly, I don’t trust anyone. Especially myself. That is, until he showed up. He’s the one person I can feel myself trusting.
He found me one of the times I returned to Japan. He dropped in and fought off a mercenary I had been battling. I’ve let him follow me ever since.
He’s tall and well-muscled. With large, strong hands. He would need them with that heavy medieval sword he packs around. No shirt. Black pants and shoes. Hooded cloak covering his right side at all times. It’s blood red and ripped. I assume from countless battles. His face remains pitch black under the hood, and I assume he also wears a mask by the white eye covers.
He never speaks. Doesn’t motion. Never uses body language. I know not where he’s from. Don’t know why he chose to follow me. Don’t even know his name.
I wanted to name him Red Shadow, but he’s not ninja. His fighting style makes that clear. I call him Demise, for whoever he chooses to swing that double-edged sword on is sure to meet their death. And if he was to stay with me, he needed an assassin’s name.
But he’s not exactly an assassin. The only people I know he’s killed are those that had been hired to kill me. But he is Demise. As I am Black Ice. I’m an assassin with a silent guardian. So those that seek either of our lives may be warned. You will meet a cold death at the end of our blades.