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Category Archives: microcosmsfic

Microcosmsfic Flash Fiction – The Daughters of Nereus

 

This was my entry to last Friday’s microcosmsfic. Hope you enjoy.


299 words
Nymph / Underworld / Myth
Special Challenge: Death

Within the depths of the great ocean lay a vessel of stone and wood and metal. As ancient as time. A primordial husk borne of demise. Upon the splintered furrows etched into the wood, emblazoned in gold aged and weathered, remained a single word that spoke of times past: Nereus.
From the hollows of the great sunken ark, worn trembling fingers wound gleaming gears onto the bosom of coral shaped as one of human descent.
“Ne’er shall ye taste the bitter elixir of death.” The voice rumbled. Creatures of the sea squiggled away from the words. Fearing entrapment. The old fingers slid the final piece into place, a soft caress and an ancient chant of a forgotten tongue sealing the alabaster skin of the slumbering creation.
She gasped to life with a flurry of froth and foam and the quiet tick of clockwork. Spiralling lashes fluttered open to reveal dark orbs reminiscent of Hade’s realm.
“Bring me souls dear one. Forty-nine more. The surface shall know our woe. This domain shall be Sheol to them.”
The young creature of the sea swam from within the dark abyss to the bright cerulean waters above. To the passing ships and echoing shouts of passing sailors. One of which gazed upon the waters to see a creature of immense beauty. Long dark tresses flowing down bare shoulders. Pink pouting lips whispering promises of love and pleasure.

Unperturbed, he dove to the waters and let the creature drag him into the watery depths. Death clawing at his lungs and throat until it seeped into him and faded into darkness.

She brought the sailor to her father Nereus. The ark thrumming with life as yet another coral-created form waited for the sailor’s soul.

“My daughters… no my Nereids. Long shall ye live with me.”


Shout out to Carin Marais who shared the Community Pick win with me. Read her microcosms entry: The Sisters Oath.


I built this story from the mythology of the Nereids:

THE NEREIDES (Nereids) were fifty sea-nymphe daughters of Nereus the old man of the sea.  They were goddesses of the sea’s rich bounty and protectors of sailors and fishermen, coming to the aid of those in distress. Individually they represented various facets of the sea from the salty brine, to the sea foam, sand, rocks, waves and currents, as well as the various skills possessed by seamen.

The Nereides dwelt with their elderly father in a silvery grotto at the bottom of the Aegean Sea. The Nereid Thetis was their unofficial leader and Amphitrite was Poseidon’s queen.

The Nereides were depicted in ancient art as beautiful, young maidens, sometimes running with small dolphins or fish in their hands, or else riding on the backs of dolphins, hippokampoi (hippocamps) and other sea creatures.

The name Nereides means “Daughters of Nereus” but also “the Wet Ones” from nêros the Greek word for “wet”.

~ theoi.com/Pontios/Nereides

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Friday Fiction: The Man and the Mice

Today’s Friday Fiction is courtesy of microcosmsfic.com. 300 word short story using the following elements.

Character: Inventor, setting: Laboratory, and genre: Fable.


A Man sought to build a machine, to cure an illness that beset his child. He dug a hole as big as a room below his house and turned it into a laboratory. 

Many days and nights he spent there. Toiling away in the hopes of finding a cure. Yet when he finally concocted one, he feared it would kill his child if untested. 

He noticed then, many Mice that roamed about the laboratory in search of food. 

“Mice. Pray I ask thee a favour.”

The Mice, having seen the man’s compassion for his child, approached the Man without fear,

“Man, what asketh thee?”

“Merely of your labour as my assistants. My child is sick and I require your tenacious perseverance to find a cure.”

“And what shall be our fee?”

“I will build for thee a house of glass, where I shall feed you, provide water, and build you a wheel for leisure. You shall want for nothing.”

“That would please us greatly.” The Mice replied, feeling pleased at having to no longer scrounge for food.

The Man made true on his promise, and built a large house of glass with bowls filled with food, and bowls filled with water. Wheels and tunnels traversed the house where the Mice roamed freely. Beds of hay allowed the mice to repose without fear.

Then, the time came for the Mice to assist the Man, and aghast they watched a fellow Mouse pulled from the bottom of the cage, for that is what is was, and onto a metal platform to be punctured by a needle full of the supposed cure. 

The Mouse died in agony. When the Mice complained, the Man replied

“Sometimes you must sacrifice the many, for the one.”


Totally loved writing this. If you’d like to see the thought process behind this weeks Microcosmsfic, come read it on my Pareon page. It’s free to read so please come check it out.

Friday Fiction: As it is

Living Statue

Today’s Friday Fiction is courtesy of microcosmsfic.com. 300 word short story using the following elements.

Living Statue, setting: Pedestrian Area, and genre: Romance.


We’d spent the day at the river further out of the city. Aurulent light cascaded over his long dark lashes framing large brown eyes no longer innocent. They sparkled under my gaze, suddenly bleeding clear liquid with a long drawn blink.
“I don’t understand.” A feathery whisper following downcast eyes; I brushed loose strands from the unblemished skin,
“Where the heart draws no line, the law does.” He draped a thin arm across my waist, my chest growing wet against his face. We remained so, surrounded by trickling water, distant chirrups and rustling leaves until the sky deepened into a fiery curtain; the last scene of our final act.

He wasn’t there. Not when the sun bloomed in the distance, peeking from clustered puffs and filtering through the high-rise structures like golden fingers. Crowds milled around the cordoned off pedestrian area, scowling past the workmen carelessly slapping cold concrete over my bare skin. Mother stood rigid further off in the distance, a roulette of emotions.
“Mr Ruskin. Any last words?” I gazed down at the lanky fellow in his flawless grey suit gleaming in the sunlight. I shook my head, sweeping my gaze over the crowds. Hopeful.
“The boy has been banned from visiting this part of the city.” The man said with furrowed brow,
“Not even as a last request?”
“You’re in no position to make last requests. Your kind deserve no rights at all.” I nodded my head and looked towards the sun. It would be the last time I would feel its warmth against my skin. Changing laws meant there was no rehabilitation-focused incarceration where freedom was an attainable dream. Criminals were literally cemented into living statues and put into public spaces, living their last days as public spectacles of ridicule. And thus I would always be.

Memoir

crowd-of-people-1209630_1280

Today’s Friday Fiction is courtesy of microcosmsfic.com. 300 word short story using the following elements.

Undercover Cop, setting: Field, and genre: Memoir.


Our feet swished across the field like nuns shooshing delinquents at the back of a church. In the distance we could hear a thump thump thump of drums backing the hollowed wails of a banshee with a cold. Darkness had enveloped Summerset Field in a cloak unlit by the non-existent sphere in the sky, and a chill rose from the earth snaking up along my spine.

“Are you sure the intel is correct. They smell like regular folk to me.” my partner grunted, kicking something across the field that drenched his shoes in a rancid metallic scent “Crap.”

I looked down at the ground, hoping to avoid the same fate.

“Drugs, sex and rock ‘n roll. Perfect camouflage for deaders.”

“We’re deaders, and you don’t see me headbanging to teen-aged boys in skinny jeans pretending they know what rock ‘n roll is.”

“Unless your daughter is in the room.” I give him a grin but his eyes narrow with his mouth. I raise my hands. I’m the only one who knows he has a human daughter – how he pulled that off is a mystery no one has been able to decipher. Yet anyway.

“Do you even know who we’re looking for?”

“He’s an ancient vamp. Goes by the name Memoir.” I snort, “Used to be a historian and scribe back when Barnabas and Paul were trading blows in Antioch.”

“An Elder then.”

“One of the few remaining.”

We continued in silence, moving close enough to flit amongst sprawled bodies wafting enough fumes to emulate a brewery. Eventually the bodies were upright and swaying like grass stalks in the wind, music pounding in our ears. My spine tingled again as we drew closer. He was here alright. More than just a detective’s intuition. He was my brother after all.


I was reading a vampire book so… you know. Vampires. You should go read the Book Review of Gloryhill. It’s perfect.

Also, quick update: September is Spring Death month, in short,a month of blossoming death and flowery cadavers. Happy Friday!

Friday Fiction: Dust

Today’s Friday Fiction is courtesy of microcosmsfic.com. 300 word short story using the following elements.

We spun, and our three elements are character: Driver, setting: Rural Road, and genre: Romance.


Title: Dust

Word Count: 258

Dust. It pervaded the streets like flies over dead bodies. Endless. The windshield was a speckled window to the winding throughway that was more dirt and car denting dips than actual road. I had to ease the car through as each little bump would knock my passenger’s sleeping head against the window. Occasionally I’d look over the slumped form, pale skin almost white against the filtering rays, accentuating the dark blue lids shut against the glaring sun. The lips had parted and liquid seeped from the corners to dribble over the near transparent blouse she wore. So peaceful. Eventually the road smoothed out, allowing me to reach for the lighter and Marlboro pack in my breast pocket, balancing the steering wheel on my thighs as fingers worked to light the cig. She wouldn’t mind the smoke. I rolled the window down slightly letting the tendrils escape into the expanse beyond the road, an endless stretch of lush green on either side. One in particular ended at a gentle river where I had met the sleeping beauty. Long locks flowing down her shoulders, hands peacefully clasped over her abdomen with a single flower between. An angel setting my chest aflutter. Love at first sight. Rose petals overflowed from her parted lips, decorated silence of a floating soul amongst the dregs flowing around her. I’d stepped into the cold waters and rescued my princess from drifting through flooded eternity – such beauty required stilled peace. I would bury her in the meadows beyond where she would return to the dust.


A little dark. I blame the music.

Rajat Narula

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