Against the Order

A second Flash Writing prompt used for creativity practice…


Vardezia, Georgia. CC photo by Ben van der Ploeg.

Include a thunderstorm

Lightning sparks, highlighting the suffocating clay walls of my prison, wind tears at their tediously structured facades, and vibrations of thunder will soon shake the claimed mountainside.

Chaos. Everything the Order painstakingly fights against rolled into one raging storm, out of their control.  A satisfying reminder that no matter how they try to play God they will never be God.

Another flash shows a bedraggled man, eyes as mad as the air around us, clad in robes the color of midnight, a dagger in hand.  The Order’s Assassin.  They’ve decided to bypass the charade of trial, just as well.

More white light and he’s stalking my way, crimson tips his dagger and his hands are washed in it.  Blood?  I realize, he’s already killed, and it wasn’t me.

The next lightning strike.  He’s scaling the crudely carved window, tossing a gold piece my way, “For your silence.”  I throw it back and tie my long matted curls at the nape of my neck and spat, “I need no gold for my silence.”  My once feminine voice hoarse from lack of use.  He spares me one last knowing glance before producing a rope from his robes and repelling the steep cliff face.

Escape.  A plan develops and I strip my top skirt and wrap it around the rope, padding my hands, and follow without invitation.  No, I need not gold.  I need an ally, another to rise against the Order.


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