Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 58: How to Kill Demons from Another Dimension

This is the 58th a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

How to Kill Demons from Another Dimension, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 28th January 2012

Word count: 546

The story:
When it happens, it always happens fast. If you want to survive, it doesn’t come down to chance, it’s preparedness, if you’re not prepared, you die.

Trust me, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than everyone else.

I got sucked into their dimension years ago, I only got back when they’d already invaded. It’s easier to survive here than it is there. There, they have nearly nothing we would call food. Here there are still homes and shops with food in them.

If you’re hearing me, you must have survived too, you already know this. What you probably don’t know is, I can kill them.

First thing you need to know is, it’s no good once they’re hunting you, when they hunt they are extremely alert,, and even the best weapons won’t harm them. I found this out in their world, I was being hunted and I decided to fight back. I had a rudimentary blade, and as it struck I tried to stab it.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 57: To Bend a King’s will

This is the 57th a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

To Bend a King’s Will, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 27th January 2012

Word count: 752

“I am a corruption, an anomaly. I have stood upon this land for a millenia before this castle was first built, and the first castle was built a very long time ago,” the young man in worn robes said, sombrely.

“I tire of these theatrics, wizard,” the aged, “Citing your supposed age does not convince me that I should give this barbarian such a dangerous weapon. It would be madness, it makes any that holder blood mad. Barbarians are already blood mad. That’s why we lock them up.”

“This is not a barbarian, but it is true he is a beserker. The weapon was made for true beserkers, only they can control the blood rage,” the wizard said becoming animated, “The evil that approaches can not be faced by anyone else.”

“I have despatched an army, a cadre of my finest and bravest guards, and a quartet of wizards, admittedly they’re not of your supposed stature, but they can face a demon horde well enough,” the king said.

“And they will all be dead come morning. Demons, monsters, myths, legends, all very powerful and all, but they are nothing compared with the true demon that had stirred up this horde,” the wizard said.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 2: Damnation in the Living World

This is the second in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing from 2nd December 2012 until the 1st December 2013. It’s intent is to keep me writing throughout the year, and not just in November. you can find out more about the challenge here.

Damnation in the Living World, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 3rd December 2012

Word count: 1,000

Theme: fantasy, sex, devil’s pact

Warning: Some relatively mild sexual content, and gore beyond the read more

The story:

In an inn, a huddled figure wrapped in a hood, drinking from a mug.

A well dressed noble entered the inn and looked around, and walked over to the huddled figure.

“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble,” the noble said, his voice was that of a snake’s hiss. “Might be, you can make up for your transgression, Raynard.”

The figure grunted, and suddenly found his mind flying backwards through his recent history, quite involuntarily.

Raynard Climes looked around blinking. He had been lying on the battle field amid a pile of soldiers, all dead or dying, his guts trying to escape from the gash across his belly, trying to hold them in, struggling to stay alive. Now he found himself stood up, on what he did not know, because it was just glowing red, all around. He was still holding his stomach though, he could see the blood still seeping.

“Ah, you poor dear,” a woman’s voice said.

Raynard turned behind him, looking for the voice, as he turned the red gave way to something more solid, a bedroom, the likes of which he had never seen before, a room fit for a noble. In the centre was an ornate four- poster bed, and equally ornate furniture.

Then his eyes focused on a lithe woman dressed in a gossamer gown that seemingly covered her modesty, yet offered tantalising views of the figure beneath.

“Won’t you sit?” she asked, nodding at a chair.

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