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If We Must Die: Flash Fiction by cam

Updated on September 18, 2017
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Chris has written more than 100 flash fiction/short stories.Working Vacation took 21st out of 6,700 in the 2016 Writer's Digest competition.

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NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge #2: My Submission-If We Must Die

Challenge two of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge is underway as of midnight, September 17, 2017. My story for challenge one did well. Twenty-six hundred participants were broken up into eighty groups. At the end of Challenge one, points were awarded to the top fifteen stories in each group, fifteen points for first place, fourteen for second and so on. My story, The Message, received twelve points for fourth place in my group of thirty five.

Now in challenge two, we are doing it all again. At the end, more points will be awarded. The five writers with the most points in each group will go on to the next challenge. Only four hundred will advance.

I am in a good position to advance if this story is received as well by the judges as my first story was. We had forty-eight hours to write a one thousand word story.

My prompts for this were as follows:

  1. Genre: Fantasy
  2. Location: A Cancer Treatment Center
  3. Object: A Chain Link Fence

Bizarre, huh? Well, here is what I did with those prompts. I hope you enjoy it.

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If We Must Die

A full moon illuminated the landscape as peasants crept out of limestone houses. They fetched water from streams and food from gardens with frequent glances into the sky. Murmurs blended with birdsongs and the rumble of waves breaking against distant cliffs. Men hunted wild pigs and deer while hiding in shadows from the hungry eyes of the winged predator.

The people returned to their homes where they huddled near the fire with curtains drawn and doors barred. A widow was late returning. The creature dropped on wings that whispered of death and plucked the woman up a few feet from her door.

The peasants named the creature, Broga, which in their tongue meant terror. Fire roared from his gaping maw edged with spikes. The people had seen many of their own ripped apart and devoured when the scaled beast went hunting. Some of the men formed a battle line to fight the serpent. With one swing of his venomous tail, Broga cleared the battlefield of defenders and robbed families of their men.

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Charles sat up in bed. Sweat soaked his pillow and blankets. He looked around until his disorientation cleared. He was in a cancer treatment center inside a restored castle located on a seaside peninsula. His son, James, had convinced him to allow the doctors at this facility to assess the cancer that had invaded his pancreas. Charles had fought cancer before and couldn’t bear the thought of the tests and drugs. He knew it was hopeless and refused treatments but accepted medication for pain. He agreed to come here because he felt drawn to the castle, not to the treatment center. Charles rested his head on the pillow, hoping the dream would continue.

Cimorelli - Worth The Fight (Official Music Video)

In his youth, the king challenged Broga. They battled from sunrise to moonrise on barren terrain, in forests and on cliffs above the sea. Each had suffered grave wounds, and Broga had disappeared for many years. After the serpent returned, the prince watched his father grow more ambivalent by the day and his people fewer by the night. Powerful fingers that once gripped the hilt of a sword and drove it deep into the beast's belly wore grooves of worry into the ornately carved armrests of his throne. He had barely beaten the serpent once. He couldn’t face him again.

The prince spoke truth that stung like the creature's tail. "Father, Broga must die. It will do no good to hide in the castle, for when he finishes with the peasants, he will not rest until he has feasted on you and me as well. If we must die, let us die fighting."

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Charles stared at the stone ceiling. The dream made his heart race. Was this an echo of those who had lived in and around this castle? His eyelids fluttered, sleep came again.

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The king retired to his quarters. At dawn, the warrior-king emerged wearing his armor and carrying his sword and shield. "If we must fight, let the battle be today. All who will join me, step forward. The entire room of servants, noblemen, and royal family moved as one.

A ragtag army of peasants and castle folk chose their battlefield beyond a nearby stream and waited for Broga to answer the challenge. Children hid among rocks and trees wondering if their parents would survive to share the evening meal.

Broga did not disappoint. He swept the challengers with fire on his first pass, but everyone huddled beneath their shields and escaped harm. Children dashed in with buckets of water, extinguished the flames, then retreated. On the second pass, Broga landed and swept his tail in a circle; that should have ended the battle. But on command, the army dropped to the ground so that the serpent's tail passed over them. The warriors leaped to their feet, and the king shouted, "Death to the Invader!"

The king and his force roared and charged. At the same moment, a second force emerged from the forest and attacked Broga from behind. The king and the prince positioned themselves beneath the scaleless belly of the creature. They thrust their swords upward into soft flesh and vital organs. Others joined them and skewered the beast with dozens of swords and pikes. The village butcher pulled a long knife from its sheath and slit the serpent’s belly from rib cage to hind legs. The beast swayed as its blood and guts poured onto the people beneath him. They scattered as their enemy fell. The people who had suffered under the terror of Broga, burned the body and buried the bones in a stone covered mound where he had fallen.

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Charles rose slowly from the bed and made his way to the Gothic window, the wheeled I.V. pole with his morphine drip clicking across joints in the stone floor. The sapphire sea blended with the cerulean sky at the horizon. Closer in, the windswept countryside might have been unchanged for centuries except for the chain-link security fence around the facility. He was astonished at the dream's clarity. He envisioned Broga in the sky, and the last battle played in his mind. The king had given up hope, but hope was all they had. Then Charles saw it. Beyond a dry streambed, grass covered and appearing to be a natural hillock, was the low mound. The door opened behind him.

Charles dragged he I.V. pole across the room and grabbed his son by the shoulders. "You do still have hope, don't you?"

The expression on James' face––the furrowed brow, the silent opening and closing of his mouth––told Charles that his son was not on the same page. "Do you still have hope, son?" He shook James in his newfound resolve.

"You know I do. I've never lost hope."

"That's right. If I must die, let me die fighting. And maybe not die at all, at least not today." His hands dropped, and he took a step back. "Let's find that doctor. We have a beast to slay.”

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    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 2 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Gilbert, thank you for reading and responding to my story. It definitely challenged my ability to keep it under 1k words.

    • rebelogilbert profile image

      Gilbert Arevalo 2 weeks ago from Hacienda Heights, California

      Congratulations Chris. You didn't win first place, but you were recognized among the top with many contestants. Great accomplishment! I loved the story. It reminded me of "Game of Thrones." But I thought this latest story of yours was too deep for flash fiction. You did such an excellent job of grabbing my interest, I want to know more about the characters, and the cancer victim.

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 3 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Thanks, Larry.

    • Larry Rankin profile image

      Larry Rankin 3 weeks ago from Oklahoma

      Great read!

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 4 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Michael, I couldn't have explained it better. Thanks for reading with such attention to detail.

    • Michael-Milec profile image

      Michael-Milec 4 weeks ago

      Have I seen this idea in your story Chris, or I just imagine: following a good fight hope never die whereas there is reason to live facing additional dreams and fighting for Final victory.

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 4 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Becky, So did I.

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 4 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Venkatachari M, Thank you. I hoped that the small breaks would make it sound less like two stories. Thanks for that feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed to story.

    • Becky Katz profile image

      Becky Katz 4 weeks ago from Hereford, AZ

      I totally understand Chris, I winced when I read the prompts.

    • Venkatachari M profile image

      Venkatachari M 4 weeks ago from Hyderabad, India

      A wonderful story. The moral lesson it imparts is very great. Die fighting, instead of a cowardly death. Chris, You narrated the story very awesomely with those small breaks.

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 4 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Eric, thank you for stopping by. This is a fun challenge and lots of work participating in the forum where we critique each others stories for two months. But it's worth it.

    • cam8510 profile image
      Author

      Chris Mills 4 weeks ago from Maple City, Michigan

      Becky, Thanks for reading. I was not thrilled to get a prompt about cancer treatment, but a message of hope seemed to make it easier.

    • Ericdierker profile image

      Eric Dierker 4 weeks ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Resolve is a tricky beast. This is pre-treatment. But I can assure our friend that the crazy dreams will come on a daily basis.

      I really get entranced with your stories. Thank you. And good luck.

    • Becky Katz profile image

      Becky Katz 4 weeks ago from Hereford, AZ

      Wonderful story. Attitude is half the fight.