I Wrote a Piece of Flash Fiction??? || THE COMMISSION by Liv K. Fisher

HAPPY WEDNESDAY, DRAGONS!

It's finals week for me (YAAAAY 😬), so this post is a bit of a rush job, but anywhozens, I WROTE A SHORT STORY. (Or flash fiction, if you want to get technical. 😉) It's 314 words (less than half-a-page) with a medieval fantasy feel. You can credit the opening sentence to Rebecca @ SpecFaith, who's hosting her semiannual writing challenge. This was my entry (which I tried to submit, but all my browsers LOATHE me right now, so it's either (A) not submitted at all, or (B) submitted 1044756705 times + totally spamming the submissions section. I'm hoping it's A rather than B! 🤞)... I can't wait to share it with you!

Without further ado, The Commission...

B Y   L I V   K .   F I S H E R

The guard would never let me enter if he knew what I was planning. Even if I weren’t Queen.

A lone trickle sounds somewhere in the distance and hesitant footsteps fall, light and near against stained wood. From the depths of the shadows comes the scarlet hem of a soldier’s coat, followed by the gleam of his bronze buttons, until at last I can see his face.

Friðrick.

He bows, low and steady. “Your Majesty.”

“Where is Njӧrður? Did you leave him lurking in the dark?”

I hear a canine growl. I hold my breath; the floorboards shift. Then I see the edge of an enormous boot behind Friðrick, and I realize Njӧrður’s been there all along.

I exhale to expel a small ghost of fog.

“Ah, I see.” I face Njӧrður. “You may wait outside, Friðrick. Njӧrður will fill your post.”

I see Friðrick glance at Njӧrður, silent. He looks back at me and bows again. “Very well, Your Majesty.”

He trudges past me, up the stairs; I’m silent until I hear the door swing shut. Then I relax.

“The whole of the prisoners?”

Njӧrður growls: “All asleep, save for her.”

“Thank you.”

With that, I shove past him. I run. My slippers creak against the platform, and, for a moment, I’m afraid this aged wood will shatter, but then I see her.

I see my salvation.

I see my son’s.

She’s withered away, huddled in the far corner of her cell--

“You were the eldest?” Her voice is thin and wiry.

“Yes, of the twelve dancing princesses.” I glance behind me. “I need your help. Do you still have magic?”

“Yes.”

“My son’s the prince. He needs a wife.”

“Every man needs a wife, child.”

“He needs a humble, kind, brave girl.”

“My dear,” my Fairy Godmother says, “I know just the one.”

She waves her wand; glass slippers appear.

“Trust me.”

Be sure to stop by SpecFaith and read everyone's entries! (I'm 99.9% sure mine's not there. 😂🙈) They're all AMAZING. 😍😍😍 AND, if you haven't entered the challenge yet, GO DO THAT! Submissions close Sunday night.

'Til next time, Dragons, stay awesome and live boldly! 😘

LET'S CHAT!

Do you enjoy reading flash fiction? Have you ever written any?

❤,