Tag Archives: Flash fiction

Burning Fields

A breeze gusts over the rows of empty fields lined with untrimmed grass obstructing his path. He plows through until a light comes into view. Burning bright consuming the village he once called home leaving it in charred ruins. From afar, he sees the outline of an army of mighty men brandishing swords and breast plates pillaging the remains. He pivots around sprinting away, but the edge of blade meets his chin. His eyes move upwards to meet the face of a man glaring.

“There will be no survivors.”


The Tragic Protagonist

She wondered who the first person was to get burned by fire. Whoever was unfortunate enough to experience the sting had a moment of clarity. If only humanity got a preview of the pain poor decisions brought. Maybe it would prevent heartache and tragedies



One minute her life was average. Not a wrinkle of tension. When she compared her mundane existence to others she grew dissatisfied. That was her first mistake, wishing for conflict. To her demise she got her wish. They say a good story revolves around conflict. As she learned, conflict is only fun from the readers point of view rather than the protagonist.



Once the drama started, the plot unfolded for all to see. Her thoughts on display on each page. Her actions studied and criticized by those who would’ve acted differently.



Here she was, caught in the crosshairs of a tumultuous situation.  She knew it to be the beginning of the end as the main character of a horror story, but she had to keep it together for those she entertained.



The Preacher’s Secret

Wedding rings on a dictionary showing the word infidelity

Horacio remembered the day he first saw her at a revival youth seminar. He was busy laying hands on the youth for prayer when he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long jet black hair and warm set of dark eyes and lively smile caused him to stutter as she asked for prayer.

 After service was over, he caught up to her and the two of them talked exchanging telephone numbers beginning a long distance relationship over the phone since he traveled regularly. When he’d come to town, he would visit her and take her out on dates. At first her parents were skeptical of him, but after they saw how much of a gentleman he was they grew to love him. He proved himself to them by showing them that he shared their same morals and convictions. It also helped he was an upcoming pastor.
She was innocent unlike most women he pursued, which made her a prize to him. At the time, she was the woman of his dreams. He earned her trust by not letting his true colors show and succeeding in marrying a young virgin, but he soon grew dissatisfied with her. He had always been a playboy in his personal life and he was sure that she really wanted him. A long time ago he wasn’t a womanizer and actually tried to have real relationships with women, but when he was mentored by his senior pastor they would sneak out together seeing various women realizing the shameless nature of many he lost respect for them. He knew his senior pastor was constantly cheating on his decrepit wife who was unaware believing she was living the dream Christian life. There was a difference between being a pastor’s wife which was dull and the mistress, which was for having fun with. Catalina at first seemed she could be both since she was physically perfect to him, but she wasn’t sensual enough to fulfill his sex addiction. At first he gave up his aggressive, strange sexual fetishes trying to be a perfect husband, but when Adrian came along he took up too much of her time and his old desires returned and he sought out mistresses that could do the kinky things his wife would never be willing to do since she strongly was against going outside of the natural uses of sex.
When she had that kid, he loved Adrian. He resembled him and it looked like his boy would always love him, but he began to become annoyed of him because he loved to follow him around even when he needed to sneak out causing him to feel condemned. Adrian was brilliant. The kid could read by the age of two and was already starting basic math at a kindergarten age, which brought a great deal of pride to Horacio, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from withholding his rage. Adrian was his shadow quoting scriptures he memorized them like a robot. Those were the days he loved his son then something changed. He met this woman she was everything he sexually dreamed of and she had a few kids of her own and he began bond with them. Adrian soon became a shade of his mother. He no longer minded beating his son it was no different than beating his stupid wife. When Adrian would cry it would make him feel guilty and he would tell him to shut up. After all he wasn’t a bad person, he was a philanthropist having donated money to numerous charities, went on mission trips feeding the poor. Not to mention a pastor. If he were evil he wouldn’t have family’s basic necessities, and provided the extras, but no; of course they were ungrateful and undeserving of his kindness. When his son would say he was an evil man, he would beat him worse. Adrian used to say God wouldn’t like it or be pleased. How did that kid know he was only a child and he was a pastor? In past Christmases he would either beat him and his mother on that day or go on “revival retreats” in which he spent the holidays with his mistresses and their kids instead. Horacio had been through multiple mistresses probably near the hundreds and didn’t regret it, he was a man and he wasn’t getting what he needed at home.

After the Deluge




“I can’t truly create I can only emulate,” Claudius muttered as he stood beside me.

“What?” I shook my head confused. In my eyes, he was next to a god.

“Art is something unique to mankind. As a Watcher, I can only recreate through a muse,” he said. “And you’re my muse”


“Yes.” He grinned. A heat rose in my face and I turned away to conceal the smile creeping onto the corner of my face.

“Was there any divine intervention with the construction of the ancient ruins? I said.

“After my incarceration, there were a remnant of the Nephilim who took refuge underground since the earth is hollow. The ancients referred to this subterranean paradise as Agartha”

“Get out, the earth has a crust, mantle and core composed of elements. How else do explain the tectonic plate activity?”

“Humans” He closed his eyes and sighed.


“How do you explain the earthquake lights?” He said as his eyes popped open.

“A disruption in the earth’s electromagnetic field and ionosphere?” I said.

“You have so much to learn neophyte”

“Occam’s razor, sometimes the simplest explanations are the right ones. People bend their minds way too far out of shape trying to understand the world.”

“And sometimes the strangest conclusions are the soundest. Perhaps, the earth is flat as well.” He grinned.

“Yea right”

“Let’s not argue about the obvious, and I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Go for it”

“Ancient ruins like Baalbek was one of the former headquarters of the ancient ruler Nimrod. The first king of post-flood earth. At first he was a foe to my descendants as he was a mighty hunter targeting the remnant of the Nephilim.”

“Why did he hunt them?”

“He had been brainwashed by the doctrines of his grandfather Noah.”

“It sure sounds like it.”

“In the end he altered his DNA and deemed himself the very first god king as it is put in Akkadian lore with the stele of Naram-sin.”

“Wow, a thirst for power will make you do anything,” I said.

“Prior to our imprisonment, we left a series of instructions discovered by one of Shem’s sons. He followed them to revive a post flood society.”

“Explains the post flood architecture” I grinned.

“The remaining fallen angels refrained from sex with women. In place of copulation with humans, there was an influx of genetic altering. It was far safer and less problematic,” he said.

“Is there a consensus among the angels and people who create Nephilim?” I said.


“ls in not unethical to conduct experiments on people without their consent? Even if it’s to advance the species.”

“Mankind could use an age of peace that’s all we’re trying to do. The tower of Babel was set to be in modern day Tiwanaku Bolivia, but the never saw the deluge coming.”

“So there was contact between pre Columbian and eastern civilizations long before recorded in modern history?”

“Yes, the Nephilim traveled between continents influencing each civilian.”

“Explains the similarity in the ruins”

“Most ruins gave ancient people a sense of closeness to us. Mountains, hilltops and high places are sacred because that’s where the gods dwelled. The pyramids, ziggurats and temples where their way of trying to capture the idea of ascension into heaven. Nimrod was the closet with the tower of Babel until God confounded their languages.


Not a Hawk Anymore


“Welcome to Seil University, we’re glad for you to join the Hawk family, Moe. Make sure to return next month on the fifth for orientation.” The advisor grinned.

“I’m glad I was able to transfer, it’s always been my dream” Moe said as she glanced at the Hawk statue in the center of the courtyard. It reminded her of all of the hard work she had put in to get here. It had been her dream school since she was in elementary, but senior year of high school she was devastated after being rejected. So she attended two years of community college, and with a perfect GPA made it over the hurdle.

“Congratulations you earned it!” The advisor patted her back.

“Thanks” Moe blushed.

“Bye!” The advisor waved.

“See ya!” Moe lifted her hand. “Phew!” she said to herself and whipped a cluster of sweat from her brow. It was a relief to be finished with registration. Reaching into her tote bag, she pulled out a green and blue t-shirt with a Hawk on it and snuggled it. This would be her official Friday shirt. With her strange habit of wearing her favorite shirt at the end of the week it made each day of the week seem to fly by faster.

* * *

At noon the next day, she stretched her long arms, leapt out of bed and spun around like the days she would dance ballet.

Just as she headed to shower with a bundle of clothing tucked under her frail arms, she noticed her t-shirt tossed on the bedpost looked different. She scratched her head.

“What?” She gasped and turned it over. The shirt still said Seil University, but the hawk was now a bear. “I know, I didn’t buy a bear shirt!” She fumed and marched out of her room downstairs.

Her father was on the couch with a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“I can’t believe you!” She shouted. He looked up at her confused.

“Moe are you feeling alright?”

“No!” she cried, gripping the rail.

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone switched my spirit t-shirt for this ugly shirt.” She held it up.

“Let me see,” he offered, and she tossed it to him. He caught it, turned it over, and his brow rose.

“Ah, Moe…”

“What?” She crossed her arms.

“This is the same shirt you bought yesterday?”

“No, it clearly isn’t. The other one had the school mascot on it not that atrocious bear.”

“Have you been drinking again?” he asked.

“No!” She slapped her hand against her forehead.

“The school mascot is a bear. I remember when I went to Seil twenty-five years ago. I was a bear.”

“Ha, funny dad. You and mom always told Mandy and I that you two met there, and got married in your Hawk gear.”

“Definitely not!” a voice said. She turned to see her older sister Mandy, who was also visiting their parents for the summer behind her.

“You two? Now are in on this joke?”

“No, Moe there’s no “conspiracy” you just have an awful memory.” Mandy smirked. Moe turned away and marched past her sister up the staircase with tears brimming in her eyes.

The ding of a notification on her phone dried he tears. She checked it to see another message on Gmail from Seil University, and plopped down on the bed to read it. “Thanks for Visiting Seil University, welcome to bear country!”

There was no way. Everything changed over night. She opened her second drawer where all her letters from school were kept and dug through them frantically. All of them had a bear mascot in place of a hawk and welcomed her to the bear family. It was if something had alerted the past, and she let out a scream.

The Whirlwind



Removed scene from Volatile. 


Sirens hummed in a low tone. The power went out leaving nothing but darkness. A great ache tore through my tummy as I sat in a dark room sorting marbles. My grandmother placed her hands on my tiny shoulders.

    “I need you to run to the storm cellar,” she said.

    “Why Nana?” My dark eyes widened as I looked up at her crouching beside me.

    “There’s a storm coming and the cellar is the safest place.”

    “Are you coming too?” I pouted my bottom lip.

    “I’m going to collect a few pictures of grandpa.” Her nose twitched. She had lost him two years ago to illness. Ever since his death, the photographs and King James Bible he used to preach sermons with were all she had left of him.

    “Nana, I don’t want to go without you,” I whimpered.

    “Everything will be okay. Remember to pray, and I’ll join you soon. I love you Maricel.” She kissed the crown of my forehead and pulled me close to her. Tears stung my chubby cheeks as she held me.

    With a gulp, I gathered the courage to stand and sprint out the door as the tornado roared closer.

 Outside, the sky was pitch black despite it being mid-day. Trees, sheds, power lines and homes were uprooted. I covered my ears to quell the unevenness of my pulse, and dashed across the prairie past the golden, high wheat.

    Once I reached the cellar I climbed in panting, and shut the door. I waited for her to arrive and clasped my hands together praying for safety, but was unsure of how to pray. It was my first time praying. Unlike my religious grandparents, my mother kept me away from any sort of faith. When I finished, I rocked back and forth, clutching my knobby knees. The sound of walls, and roofing of the house nana was in, being demolished by the powerful whirlwind filled my ears, bringing hot tears to my eyes as I trembled.