Into The Ravenous Maw: Ten Shillings If It's Fresh

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Ten Shillings If It's Fresh

Today I'm linking to my first steampunk story, coming in at the maximum 500 words for the Finish That Thought weekly flash fiction contest (Warning: it's pretty dark): "Ten Shillings If It's Fresh." (I did not win the contest, but it was still a good story, in my opinion.)

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What is Going on Here?

You have journeyed for twelve days and twelve nights across vales, woods, and fells. Your rations have been reduced to crumbs and you had spent your last few mouthfuls of water to wash out a wound on your chest.

As the sun dips below the horizon you enter into the fabled Temple of Halor. A brick falls, missing your head by inches. Your body stiffens. Your breathing soars to a fever pitch. Out of the corner of your eye you see an inky tendril slash through the stale air. You wake up a moment later, flat on your aching back.

Living ropes coil at your head, spine, and calves. You are weightless for a moment before rolling onto a soft, wet pad: Halor's tongue.

You smile. You have entered...into the ravenous maw. If the archdemon Halor shall ever be slain, it shall be now, by you.

Follow Into the Ravenous Maw to vanquish Halor and save all you know and love.

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Sunday, May 4, 2014

Ten Shillings If It's Fresh

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