Day 90 Writing Short Stories

False Thoughts

You zigzag through the fields as a mighty roar takes over the plain. You lift your gaze and see a dragon swirling over you and the rest of the army. The dragon lets out a fiery breath, and you cast a spell over yourself and those around you to shield them from the heat. You have had enough of fire, rocks, swords, and battle cries. All you want is some peace and good fucking. Even as a halfling, you have your needs.

The fire spins over the magical barrier you have created. You feel a sweat drip off your forehead as some of the heat sneaks past your defenses.

You glance around you, and you see that other units haven’t been as lucky as the ones you are assigned to protect.

You grimace and push aside the nasty thoughts about mortality, justice, and wars. There is nothing you can do to escape the situation. You are not a deserter, no matter how cowardly you are and want to be. Duties are nasty things, forcing you down paths you otherwise wouldn’t take.

You give the middle finger to the dragon, who is already flying upwards to pick up more speed for the next attack.

The dragon shoots a nasty glance at you. You are pretty sure it is for you. There are false thoughts, and there are intuitions, and you have always been good at separating what is what. You give the nasty beast the middle finger one more time, and the thing roars. Instead of going up, the creature spirals down toward you.

You grit your teeth and prepare for another magical shield. But then the false thoughts talk to you, saying you are more than a common defense mage; that you can take the dragon down. You prepare your biggest, baddest spell and let the telekinetic force shoot up through your hands, reaching the slimy, black dragon the dark lord uses to terror the lands. First there is nothing, then the creature explodes, and you watch your hands, wondering what the fuck you just did.

But then you feel it, your force still moving over the battlefield, and you see it land not on the dragon, but on your own defense forces, taking out a huge catapult. You quickly draw your hands to your sides and search where the actual force came from. You see your twin brother and instantly know it was him. The bastard has a mad grin on his face, and all you want to do is hurl the nearest weapon at the snotty, ugly, powerful, and talented older brother, and give him the beating of his life. You are sure that if your spell had reached first, it would have done just the same. Now he gets all the glory, and you will be remembered as the imbecile who blows up their own defenses.

—

More war stories from the battlefield. I’m still trying to vanquish the dark lord governing our lands, one story at a time. Maybe one day there will be light, and no dragons to burn us to the ground. What I got today was a comic period war story written in the second person. I was almost sure I couldn’t write today as I’m feeling restless. I just signed a new contract, and I’m changing employers. There is so much to do, from proving that I can work with children to first-aid certification.

Thank you for reading! Have a fucking fantastic day and see you tomorrow ❤

P.S. I’m not sure whether I’ll take time off this weekend. The weather is constantly changing, and I’m not sure if I’ll go hiking tomorrow or not.