Day 113 Writing Short Stories

Rebirth

A tang came from his mouth as he gasped for breath. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he had to fight the dryness to free it. He wanted to stop and rest, and more than anything he wanted a drink, but none of that was for him. If he stopped, the vultures that had been following him would claim him as their own. Even now they measured his strength, and he didn’t have enough to fight them off.

He dragged his feet against the sandy ground, knowing exactly what he had done to deserve this fate. He might be arrogant, selfish, and self-centered, but he wasn’t stupid. They had cast him out into the desert, telling him karma would take care of him.

He licked his lips, tasting sand.

“Karma,” he let out, and dropped to his knees. He pressed his head against the sand and waited for the vultures to come.

A shadow stretched over him. He closed his eyes and wondered what it would feel like to be pecked to death. But the shadow came with a jingle.

He snapped his eyes open and saw a woman dressed in all red, hopping from one foot to another. She wore a skull over her face, but he could still see her mad grin. When their eyes met, she tilted her head, pushing it forward as if engulfing him inside her.

“You called?” She grinned, showing her blackened teeth.

He opened his mouth, and all that came out was a cough and a flow of little brass coins. As they dropped on the sandy ground, they disappeared, leaving behind moist spots. He rushed to lap the droplets into his mouth, sucking the sand and spitting it out.

The woman knelt over him, pressing her skull-covered head close to him. “Interesting,” she said. “Not a king, but almost like a king?”

“Huh?” he said, and with the sound, more brass coins poured out and vanished.

“Not a king, but almost like a king?”

“You mean a merchant?” The coins disappeared instantly as they dropped on the sand. He stopped looking for the little watery spots, knowing that it was no use. He had already lost it, or more like it: he was dead, and the woman was a demon to torment him in his afterlife.

She tapped her finger against her nose, making the skull rattle. “A merchant. That explains the coins.”

He was about to reply, but closed his mouth, tasting brass on his tongue.

She snapped her fingers, and a glass of water appeared in her hand. She kept tilting her head, observing him as if he were her prey.

It took every trick he had learned as a merchant not to react to her bait, but when she thrust the water into his hand, he succumbed and hungrily took it. He gulped it down, then threw it up with more coins.

“That was cruel,” he let out.

“Cruel? Not cruel. The same deal you have given others in your shoes, the desperate, the dying. And I see you took what was theirs when they fell.” She tapped her nose again. Then she jumped back from him and hopped from foot to foot, grinning again with her wild smile.

A hiss and a raspy croak came from behind him. The vultures that had circled him earlier were now on the ground, inching towards him.

“But I’m not cruel. I’m just, and the people who sent you here gave you a chance. You can return; that’s the deal, but not like that.” She tapped her temple.

“What kind of choice is that? Die or change?” He caught some of the coins before they fell on the sand. They turned into little droplets of water on his hand, and he licked the moisture hungrily.

“Not a fair one, but that is not anything new to you. So death?” She held out her right hand. “Or year with me?” She opened her left hand to him.

“What if I keep walking?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at the stretching desert. “Death?” She returned her focus to him and smiled.

He shook his head. “This is not fair!”

“No, but a chance nevertheless, and you might find something good out of this. Not the good you already had when owning half the kingdom and forcing others to do your bidding, but the other kind of good.”

He groaned. “Year, and that’s all you have.”

Her laughter filled the desert, making the vultures shoot into the air and croak angrily at her.

—

This was fun to write. The more I write these little stories/scenes, the more fun I think I have with writing. Some of the stories stay with me and live on. It’s like having my own mini movie theater with me all the time. Sometimes I think all I want to do is write these little snippets. They feel so much easier and more approachable than writing a book, but then when I open my book file and get to work on it, I know why I love writing books too.

What I got today was a conversational fantasy rebirth written in the objective third person. I’m not sure about the conversational part, but otherwise I had fun turning rebirth into a fantasy story. This time I wanted it to be a transformation, altering a horrible person into a good one. I’m not so sure if that is possible in real life. Lately, I’ve felt disappointed with people and wondered if it would be a good idea to become a hermit, but then again, being a hermit is against my nature. It’s just that I see the best in people, and when they hurt me, I’m surprised, and my husband sighs like he saw it coming from far away. Sigh. I’d still rather be good to others than nasty.

Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day with the people you love, and see you tomorrow ❤