Tag Archives: fighting

Fiction: Memories (246 words)

“Here,” Jonah offered her a knife, sheathed in a piece of carefully cared for leather.  “It’s yours, Petra.  Maybe you remember?”

She said nothing, but looked up and down between Jonah and the knife.  Jonah shrugged like he couldn’t really care either way.  “You were trained with it, and even if you can’t remember it, I’d bet your muscles would react automatically.”  Jonah gave another half shrug, setting the knife down on the foot of her bed.  “I want you to feel that you can defend yourself if you feel threatened.  It sucks to be defenseless.”

“Are you defenseless now?” Petra asked.

“No,” Jonah sighed, “No.  Being defenseless was my first mistake.”

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Petra didn’t know how to ask.  He nudge the knife forward a little on the bed. “Take it. Just in case.”  Petra reached down and picked it up, and found she did feel better to have it in her hand. She pulled the knife half way from it’s sheath and though she still couldn’t place it, it did feel familiar.

“Thank you,” Petra answered, part manners didn’t remember learning, and part gratitude.

“Yeah,” Jonah said looking at the exposed blade.  “Least I can do.”  He blinked a few times,  before heading out of the hospital room.

Petra slid the knife back into the leather, and slipped it under the blanket, pressed against her leg.  She felt safer with it there.  The rest, she’d figure that out later.

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Posted by on July 16, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: Day Off in the Training Yard (195 words)

Sierra watched the boys train.  They hadn’t recognized her because she wasn’t wearing any of her insignia or troop colors.  They thought she was just a girl from Inland—here for any list of reasons, and they were going to try their hardest to impress her.  After all, what was the fun of being a solider if you couldn’t make people swoon over you?

And they weren’t bad, she’d give them that.  They had good form and good techniques, and they would hold their own in many a good fight.  Of course, they wouldn’t stand a chance against her.  She figured she could take the red-headed one down in about forty five seconds flat. The blond one—he might take closer to two minutes to go down.

She’d let them peacock for a little bit longer—then she’d start to really pay attention—making it obvious that she was paying them attention.  Then they’d start to pay her attention, offer to teach her a thing or two.

And she knew it was cruel, but she really couldn’t help but to let them set themselves up for failure.  It was really the only fun she got to have these days.

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Posted by on May 24, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: His Army (132 words)

He changed when our brother died.  That was—oh, goodness two years ago now. And it was just like something inside him snapped.  He’s a good man, but harsh.  He’ll end up on the right side of the war, I’m sure of that, but he’s not above using some of the wrong tactics.  After all, this war took his brother—our brother—the best soul we could have ever known.  Neither side really seems worthy of his respect anymore.  And while I don’t really get that, I kind of get that.

And if you can’t deal with that, then I’d strongly suggest you get out of his army.  Because one doe eye innocent isn’t going to change his plans, tactics, or mind.  It was one of them that made him this way in the first place.

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Posted by on April 18, 2015 in Stories


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Fiction: Bonding (251 words)

I couldn’t hate her.  They wanted me to–but their own programming was working against them.  They’d spent so much time telling me that I needed her, expecting me to rely on her, reminding us both again and again that we were the opposite sides of the same coin, one couldn’t exist without the other.

Well, I didn’t rely on her anymore, that was for certain.  She was a traitor to the cause, I saw that, and if she didn’t change her ways we’d end up working against each other.  I was disappointed the way any brother would be to see his sister throw her life away. But I couldn’t hate her the way they wanted me to hate her.  And I hoped that she held the same for me too. No matter what the other side told her about me, no matter how ‘evil’ they said I was, I hoped she couldn’t properly hate me.  It was likely to be the only way we’d both survive this.

Because they wanted me to kill my twin sister–and the other side wanted my twin sister to kill me.  We were well-trained–equally matched–it would only take a second’s hesitation to allow the other one to get the hand up–but if we couldn’t hate each other, if we both hesitated to act–we might be okay.

The only way–my only hope for surviving tomorrow was that my sister would hesitate.  I knew I would.  But if she decided she couldn’t hate me, we might be okay.

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Posted by on August 10, 2014 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: Aftershock (206 words)

His head was ringing when he woke up.  Like all of his top ten worst hangovers decided to come back and haunt him all in one.  But–he hadn’t been drinking, had he? No–he’d been–fighting?  Yes–fighting. There was an ambush and he and–

“Geneva!”  He practically screamed it as he sat up as straight as he could, eyes popping open. He needn’t have panicked though.  As soon as he was sitting up (his headache now nearly doubled) he saw his wife sitting there next to him, blissfully uninjured.  He smiled in spite of the pain.

Geneva grabbed his hand gently.  “I’m here–I’m right here.  It’s okay, sweetheart.”   She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead as she lowered him back to a laying position. “It’s all right. We’re at Maggie’s.  She took care of you. You’re going to be alright.”

“I scared you, didn’t I?” Jason asked, letting his eyes fall shut.  He was tired again, already.  How long would he have to sleep?

“Yes.  And you better not do it again.”

People always felt the need to point out that Jason had a rather bossy wife.  But he knew her orders only came from a place of love.  He couldn’t fault her that.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

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Posted by on July 12, 2014 in Maggie's Stories


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