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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Block Breaker #2

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.

Not done one in a while, but got an itch.


 

Middling William

by Jonathan Lawrence

I remember the day I first met William, like it was yesterday, even as the decades have flowed by, it’s one of my most vivid memories.

The strange thing is when I first met him, he didn’t leave that much of an impression immediately. He was middling everything, middling height, middling build, middling clothes – I mean everything.

“Ms Rebutem,” William said curt but polite.

“Constable,” I replied, barely noticing him among the crowd of Lookie-loos, here to see the accident. It took me several moments to realise someone had addressed me by name. I’m not crazy, or stupid, but when a tanker over turns as a police officer in London, your focus tends to be on the multitudes that come to gawp, oh don’t look at me like that, the fire brigade and ambulance were dealing with the driver.

“Excuse me, how do you know my name?” I asked him.

“It’s on your label,” he said matter of factly pointing at the velcro patch on my stab vest, it was a more dangerous world back then, “I’m William,” he was returning the gift.

“It also says Constable,” I said annoyed at the middling man, “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“You’ll be busier when that tanker explodes,” he said confidently, there was nothing middling about his voice, it was both strong and calm, easily audible over the throng of by standers, he looked at his watch, “In about one minutes give or a take a few seconds. I’d call everyone back, if I were you?”

“What?” I asked confused and still annoyed, and mildly alarmed even though in the back of my mind I was sure he was a lunatic.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 28: Olympian’s Descent

This is the 28th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Olympian’s Descent, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 29th December 2012

Word count: 998

Theme: gods, myths, mystery, murder, politics

The story:

“So, you think someone is out to get us?” Zee asked his son Percy.

Percy slid into the comfy sofa in his father’s study, “I don’t know. Mortals couldn’t have discovered us, yet two of us are dead already.”

“Not one of the family, though” Zee asked concerned.

“Family or not, they were immortals. They descended right along with us,” Percy pointed out.

“They were minor immortals, and they died in accidents,” Zee said, “You know the rules of our descent, we won’t age, but we can die in every other way. That was the price we paid. I see nothing to be alarmed about, I’ll just add them to the family flier, those that knew them can mourn them.”

“Two accidents in one week? The first deaths in nearly two millennia?” Percy asked.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 27: Saviour’s End: Part One

This is the 27th in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

Saviour’s End: Part One, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 26th December 2012

Word count: 997

Theme: action, kids, protector, deceit, assassins, protection

The story:

Jackson wished he could leave him, just leave and never look back, but he couldn’t. He had made a promise, “Look after this man, with your life if you have to,” his father as he lay dying in a pool of his own blood.

Now he was shepherding the guy with no usable skills through London’s seedy underside. They couldn’t go to the authorities, they couldn’t rely on friends, only on each other – which amounted to only on Jackson.

Jackson spent the days searching for food, and drink, trying to survive, while he just sat there too out of it to be useful. Occasionally he would come round enough to cook what Jackson brought home, but it was rare.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 15: Cult of Amara

This is the 15th 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.

Cult of Amara, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 16th December 2012

Word count: 995

Theme: mystery, religion, chosen one, cult

The story:

“We who are beholden to the true one,” the acolyte said, garbed in his thick brown cotton robe, “I am yours for now, and forever, to command, for I obey,” he said lowering his head to the floor.

“Arise, you are acolyte no more,” a priestly figure said from a top of a high seat, he was wrapped in purple robes, so much so no one had actually seen him for years, “You are now a priest of the order of Amara, come replace your robes.”

It was a solemn ceremony, one which Jaximus, (his Amaran name), watched with trepidation. It would be his turn to be called next week. Once they had appointed priests just twice a year, then once a month, and now they were doing it weekly. The end must be near, Jaximus couldn’t help feeling, yet all the priests remained in the compound.

It was a very confusing time for Jaximus, he was having doubts, yet, he’d manage to pass the tests of the faithful.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 14: To The Ends of the Earth and Back

This is the 14th 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.

For Her, Anything, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 15th December 2012

Word count: 728

Theme: action, adventure, treasure hunt, clues, mystery

The story:

“Fucking Wales,” Leron Ruiz swore in Spanish.

“It cud be wuss, it cud be france,” his guide on this leg of his quest pointed out. Nathan Smith was, what he affectionately described, a Brummie, he’d been helping Leron get around this country to some pretty unusual spots. As far as Leron was concerned all of it was unusual. A week earlier he’d been in his offices in Texas, he was a private investigator there, a pretty low rent one at that. Then a huge fish walks in the door, and offers him a boat load of money to track down some secret map.

Of course he’d refused, the guy wanted him to go to Egypt. There were professionals for that kind of thing, and if they weren’t taking the job then clearly it was for a good reason. Then the old man had been shot outside the doors of his office. Sniper shot the police said, at least five hundred feet. The guy had left the folder with the job details, and Leron may have forgotten to mention it to the police.

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