Under Bendel's Sway

Unfortunately, I can't figure out a way to link directly to the story, but if you scroll through these comments a bit, you'll find my entry in the 80th iteration of the Microcosms flash fiction contest.  It's titled "Under Bendel's Sway," it's 300 words in length, and it can be variously labeled as thriller, horror, or fantasy. Find it here.

(Added Note: I got 2nd-place out of the 16 entries!)

Bloop

     A young man clad in royal blue came into the Captain’s room.  The captain sat at a large brown desk littered with papers.  “Yes, sonny?” he questioned after looking up.

     “We’ve been hearing an odd noise on our sonar for the last twelve nautical miles, Captain,” the sailor replied.

     “So?”

     “Well, Captain…”

     “At ease,” the captain interjected.

     “Yes, well, the sound is unidentified.  Its frequency is so high we almost can’t even pick it up, and it’s incredibly loud.  This is no animal, and there are no known ships able to make this kind of noise.”

     “Tell them to keep moving.  There’s no use worrying about it, it’s probably just a malfunction in the sonar.”  The younger man saluted and left the room with this statement.



     The ship rocked violently.  Water jetted up over the top deck and fell with a clatter like heavy rain.  A black shape jutted up at the bow.  The shape had eyes!  A group of sailors ran around in literal madness at the monstrosity that had wrecked their vessel.  The beast took one massive claw and drug the ship under, then fell back into his long slumber…

Creationist Commando

     Streams of orange filtered through the small window beside my chair.  I was trying to read a dissertation on evolution—laughing all the way—when I heard a sharp noise toward the front of my townhouse.   The next sound was unmistakable—the turning of a door-knob.

     My heart skipped a single beat.  I bent the corner of my page and tossed the magazine on the floor.   “Another break-in,” I called into the phone.  The number was on speed-dial.

     I rose to my feet, taking time to stretch.  Shoulder rolls, lunges, neck circles—what am I forgetting? Oh, yeah, my wrist stretches.  Lithe and ready, I drew my Swiss Army knife and crept beside the opening into the hall.

     The thief crossed into the room toting what looked like a Santa sack.  I laughed audibly.  He blinked hard.

     Metal blurred as I struck him in the thigh and twisted in a quarter-turn.  His cry of pain was cut short by my fist slamming into his jawbone.  The low-life tried to get a quick jab in below my belt, but I stopped it with my free hand and tugged him to my blood-red carpet.

     Another, less whimsical, man entered at a run. I stuck out my leg and sent him flying.  The sharpness in his eyes was evident.  Although, maybe it was just the perfect combat roll talking.

     The second intruder made two critical mistakes.  His first came a split-second after he regained his footing.  I dodged the soaring knife with ease.  The second was more dramatic.  “Lord Jesus,” he spat.  It took me a moment to talk myself out of whacking his head off.  Instead I drove the bottom of my palm into his right temple.

     A sudden pain shot through my back.  My lips pursed.  A cold stream began to flow almost at once.  Before it could, however, I had the original thief on his back in front of me clutching the back of his skull where it had hit the floor.  “We didn’t take anythin’ yet, missir’,” he moaned.  “Don’t kill us.  Please.”

     “You’ve already chosen death for yourself,” I said.  “‘Thou shalt not steal.’”  Sirens rang out distantly.  “I’ll let the cops sort you out for now.  I have my own commandment to keep.  Lucky you.”