Block Breaker #3

Block breakers are short stories, random ditties for which the only real purpose is to write something, anything when Writer’s Block strikes. Quality, verbosity, fidelity, consistency – none of these words apply. Just write or die.

So I’m procrastinating from prepping for writing, by writing… here we go again!

P.s. days later, and this has turned into quite a monster, highlighted this in  the Ah the Corners post, it grew and grew, pulled in research, had a few bumpy changes of directions. It’s still not edited, nor even spell checked – exactly as a Block Breaker should be, but it’s 8,500 words, about ten times longer than it should be. Going to be another post, just exploring this monster. However I put it out there for those with the patient, and ability to read drivel.


Ascendant’s Fire

“Brother!” Kaalem screamed, spotting her enemy across the battlefield, she charged forwards sword gleaming in the light of fire and destruction around her as it trailed behind poised to strike.

Rylan turned to face the scream, he pulled his battleaxe from it’s recent victim, and as he moved into a  ready stance he drew the battleaxe up ready to strike, his gaze looked on the threat charging across the battlefield.

The siblings meters away from clashing, were suddenly seperated by a wall of fire that swept across the carnage between them, blocking the way.

Kaalem screamed as she drew up short before the flames, just then an enemy soldier charged at her, lunging with a lance, she rolled to the left away from the flames, and as she found her feet, the sword struck out biting into the out stretched arm, causing it to recoil in pain. The soldier was hardy though, he switched the lance to his arm, and wielded it one handed. Kaalem feigned a roll to the right, and as the lance struck true to where she should have been, she plunged her blade into his eye, his body went limp, and as she withdrew the blade the body slumped to the ground twitching.

A ghostly figure drew up beside the warrior.

“You did it,” she accused him, as she cleaned the blade.

“It was not time, you’re not ready,” the figure said calmly.

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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 42: A Family Tradition

This is the 42nd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

A Family Tradition, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 12th January 2012

Word count: 725

Theme: family, brother, father, fight, challenge, nobility, honour, distinguish, responsibility

The story:

“It is time, sire,” the page said dropping to one knee to address the king who had stoicly been sat in his throne for three days without rest waiting for this moment.

The king nodded, and broke his vigil to stand, “Fetch my bread, and fetch me wine, then bring my weapons and my armour,” he commanded. The bread and wine were brought first, he ripped a chunk of bread off and dipped it in the wine. He sucked on the wetted bread chunk until all that was left was the crust. “Take the rest, give it someone more deserving, and more in need than I,” he commanded.

Next came the armour, it took three men to carry the armour, and two to carry the sword, a sixth man carried the large daggers. The king was a giant of a man, compared with the people of his kingdom, he was easily a foot taller than their tall men, and he was big and broad. The kingdom respected strength, and they respected their foreign born king for his, and over the years they had learn to respect his wisdom too, he had brought them peace, and prosperity until recently.

The first reports of trouble had been heralded two weeks ago, the word coming from the east was that giants were attacking. The king knew otherwise, and as the reports came closer, he dispatched his army to clear the way, but not to attack. Some had ignored orders to their peril.

As the king strapped on his sword, having put his armour and daggers in place first, he flexed. The old armour was masterfully made, a gift from another king. The leather beneath the panels and studs creaked as they were forced to make way for the still taut muscles of the king.

“I am ready,” the king said to himself quietly.

“Sorry, sire?” his page asked.

“Nothing,” the king said, and then added, “Clear out all of you. Make sure the castle is empty.”

“In the absence of your guard, we will stand and defend you sire,” the page said, the sword and armour bearers did not seem so certain.

“This is not a fight for the kingdom, this is personal,” the king said, “I would not have my people die in my stead.”

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