Flash fiction challenge: Ain’t Good

This past week I entered the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge, a weekly flash fiction contest. I didn’t win, but it was fun to write. Here’s the writing prompt, and my entry appears below. I’m hoping to do more of these, if inspiration hits me.

Ain’t Good

“Don’t look now, Lenore, but I see fresh meat a’coming.”

Lenore ruffled her feathers and moved to the edge of the branch for a clearer look. Sure enough, two more of the humans in their orange clothes were approaching the tree. “Is it feeding time again, dear?”

Edgar, her mate, cawed to their dozens of children. The large birds flapped their wings and hopped excitedly. “I’d say they’re hungry, all right.”

“One of these days it will be time for them to leave us,” Lenore said. Little had the two ravens known that when they picked this tree for their new home, they’d become foster parents to a nest of abandoned baby vultures. How could she say no to the helpless little ones? At least the humans made it easy to take care of their brood.

“Oh, don’t say that. They’ve got everything they need right here. You know you’d miss them.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lenore watched with pride as several of their children took flight and began circling the approaching figures.

“If the damned humans hadn’t built that prison over yonder, I don’t know what we’d do,” Edgar added.

“Edgar!” she scolded. “Language, dear.”

He hung his head. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

But the children had already taken up the cry. “Damned humans! Damned humans!” Within moments, they swooped down on the terrified men, beaks and claws ripping and tearing.

“Our babies,” Lenore said with a proud sigh as she watched them feed.

Flash fiction: The Headsman’s block

Indies Unlimited, a wonderful site that supports independent authors, has a weekly flash fiction challenge. They post a photo and ask for 250-word stories. I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while and finally one came up that caught my interest: http://www.indiesunlimited.com/2013/09/07/flash-fiction-challenge-the-headsmans-block/. Here’s my story.

The Headman’s Block

They force me to my knees before the headsman’s block. My stomach churns, like I want to heave up last night’s roast venison. Is poaching a few deer so bad? A man deserves some comfort, don’t he? I breathe slowly and stare at the deep grooves criss-crossing the stump, thinking of all the other outlaws who lost their lives here. All but Robin, that is. No, not the Robin you’re thinking of. Robin of Mortwood Forest was his name and don’t you forget it. They don’t tell many tales about our Robin, but they should. He’s the only man to ever escape the block.

“Don’t worry about me,” Robin would say with that smirk of his. “They’ll never get my head. You know why? Because I believe, boys. I believe in the magic of the forest and it’s going to do right by me when the time comes.”

And darned if he didn’t speak the truth. They say the headsman swung his axe and Robin vanished, body, head, and all. They say that stump just swallowed him whole, like the forest spirits called him home. Wish I’d seen it.

Me, I’m trying to believe, but I’m not feeling anything from this here stump. I start praying to the forest gods and the trees and the leaves. Even the acorns. Sunlight glints on the axe. I’m not near as brave or smart as Robin, but I’ve had a good life, haven’t I? I close my eyes and lower my head.

Thunk.