Runaround

For his eighteenth birthday, Lathan got magical boots from Grandpa, so nobody could catch him up.

When cyclopes attacked the village, Lathan ran into a leafless forest, where witches boiled bones in cauldrons; so he fled to the Glass Mountain, opaque crystals everywhere, and their shimmering princess offered engagement; flushed in embarrassment, Lathan roved to a roadside tavern, mocked by goblins, and a bounty placed on his head. He circled around the empire for a month but eventually ended up at home.

As cyclopes growled, Lathan finally faced his worries, selling the boots for a rusty sword at the blacksmith.

From Guest Contributor Bettina Laszlo

Bettina writes fiction to convey what is beyond expression. Her work has appeared in NUNUM, Dragonfly educational programme, and is forthcoming at 101 Words. She lives in Budapest with her fiancé.

Babylon

A city thrives and a city dies, from village to metropolis to graveyard. Now, the desert rocks hide secrets of millennia past, lives long forgotten, dreams of glory faded to black.

A man and woman once lived in Babylon. They fell in love, had children, populated the city with dreams of a family empire that would never end. The man and woman grew old together, surrounded by children and grandchildren, bolstered by laughter and love.

The city endured longer than the man and woman. It endured longer than the grandchildren. But the city didn't live forever. The family still endures.

Falling

Dominicus Tyrannus watched the city crumble from his tower. For years, advisors and barely-trusted confidantes had warned such an outcome was inevitable. There were always warnings and doomsayers looking at him as if somehow he was the one who had failed them, not the other way around.

They were dead now, publicly executed by being tossed from this very tower, their deaths meant to placate the masses. Perhaps it had just whetted their appetites for more blood. Either way, with the empire falling after more than a thousand years of uninterrupted reign, Dominicus regretted not killing them all much earlier.

An Empire At War

The empire went to war the same way an insecure dog picks fights, erratically and for unknown cause. Was it to assert dominance in an uncertain universe? Or maybe to protect resources of little worth and questionable appeal to her adversaries? Who can say? The whims of the empress were unpredictable and perhaps more than a little self-destructive.

The reasons mattered little to the soldiers of the empire. They were just unfortunate strays caught up in affairs beyond their ken, with only one concern: hope that their lives, and their deaths, would somehow satiate the inscrutable monarch.

They rarely did.

Gold Leaf

The Egyptians used ocean-faring vessels during the height of their empire, and modern Peruvian fishermen still use similar reed boats. One's design is to transport a balanced soul into the afterlife, and the other is to sustain the body in life, a means of transport for a trip through time into a world of unimaginable outcomes.

It's the most exquisite vessel I have ever seen, and I stood there admiring its craftsmanship before I continued my assault. As the sun rises and illuminates the boat's hint of golden design, depicting Osiris's ascent from Hades, my wrath has reached its zenith.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Growing Up With Lions

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

Swimming with sharks? I’ve been growing up with lions. Coalitions of gown-wearing males, competitive and cooperative. A strong coalition, George and Chris built an empire that lasted for ten years before being kicked out by an invader. Leading an exodus of talent, each took over a different territory. Ryan lost the battle for supremacy to Elaine who extended her influence over critical areas. Parachuted, Lydia cooperated with Harry, but got rid of Zoey being in her way. But there is a new species emerging, leading an open ecosystem to unite and build territory. It’s all about joining the right pride.

From Guest Contributor David Chek Ling Ngo

David lives in Puchong, Malaysia, where he works as a professor at a Scottish university branch campus. His short prose has appeared in A Story In 100 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, and Five Minutes.

A Centuries Old Vanity

The prince stared at the parchment, as his ministers watched impatiently.

“This treaty will mean peace with the Empire and ensure that our kingdom remains independent.”

The prince hesitated as he dipped his pen in ink. He understood the ramifications. He knew that to continue fighting against the Holy Roman Empire would eventually lead to his destruction. The church could not tolerate anything they saw as a perversion.

But then he looked at the names at the bottom. King Ferdinand II and Prince Gabriel Bethlen.

He threw his pen aside. Vlad Dracula would never lie about his name. Not ever.

Getting excited about our historical fiction contest, and so I wrote this little piece, from 1620.

Truce

It was a rivalry that lasted for millennia.

Napoleon, insulted by the assassination attempt, meticulously plotted his revenge. First on Elba, to which he manufactured his own exile, then New Jersey, where he perfected his own time machine.

The damage proved catastrophic of course. Our world took on the characteristics of both men. The emperor's anal attention to detail coupled with George's creative inspiration combined to forever warp reality.

These days, the friends laugh over the destruction they wrought. They occasionally admit to some regret, but proudly note the empire runs on schedule, and tea is always served at three.

The Castle

The castle has stood at the top of the hill for one thousand generations. Legend says that it has never fallen to enemy attack. Certainly, it never will.

The walls, seven men tall at its lowest point, thicker than two elephants nose to tail, seem to grow out of the Earth itself. The towers loom above the ramparts, from which you can survey the entire valley. The moat stretches three horse lengths across. A stone facade forever impregnable.

The villagers to the south look up and whisper a prayer every morning. Please protect us from the ghosts of empires past.