Rose left her husband snoring deeply in the covers and palmed her children’s bedroom door before slipping out to meet the pre-dawn glow. No one bothered her as she made her way, her face hidden in her hood. When she reached the colosseum the crowds were buzzing with blood lust. She settled her skirts on the dusty bench, then saw her paramour emerge, saw his sword thrown, his pen drawn, the beasts defeated still. She left to find him, fighting through hands tearing her clothes, scratching her skin. She tripped and shut her eyes against a sea of feet trampling.
Archive for the ‘Naomi Butterfield’ Category
Tags: 100 word story, Arena, Battle, creative writing, flash fiction, gladiator, microfiction, Naomi Butterfield, scrawl brawl, short story, trampled
Tags: 100 word story, Arena, Battle, blood, flash fiction, gladiator, mico, poet, scrawl brawl, short story, sword
Val throws down his sword, crosses his arms, faces the volcanic crowd.
“I will not fight!”
The gate opens.
Val closes his eyes, his muscles twitching. The Beast roars, lumbers toward Val, dust billowing behind. The beast leaps, Val side-steps, rolls, stands again, a pen held high.
“I am a poet!”
The Beast charges. Val curses, leaps, embeds his pen in the beast’s eye. The beast wails. Val sheds a tear, walks to his sword, is swallowed under the beast’s descending body. The beast deflates. Val emerges, bathed in blood. The ground shakes with the crowd’s eruption.
Another gate opens.
Tags: 100 word story, creative writing, flash fiction, knife, microfiction, murder, Naomi Butterfield, scrawl brawl, short story, stab
Laura slinks her blue-sequined body across the room to Frank, her unlit cigarette extended.
“Frankie — you don’t mind if I call you Frankie? Frankie, can you give a girl a light?”
“Uh, sure.” Frank fumbles the lighter from his pocket. Laura smiles. “I don’t make you nervous, do I?” She locks eyes, inhales, picks up Frank’s drink. “What are you drinking? Is it tasty?”
Frank doesn’t see Vic or the knife now in his gut. Vic folds Frank into the chair.
Vic whispers, “C’mon, doll, exit stage left.”
Laura finishes Frank’s drink, drops a C-note on the table. “Delicious.”
Tags: abuse, blood, creative writing, flash fiction, food, Gangsters, microfiction, Mobsters, Naomi Butterfield, scrawl brawl, short story
“It’s my family, Kate. Not me.” Lenny reaches across the table, gently caresses her bruised face, takes her hand.
Stefan is sweating. He’d been rough with Kate. Bruno grins. “Well, my brother, time to teach Stefan some manners.” Bruno escorts Stefan to the back.
Lenny refills Kate’s Chianti. They eat their osso buco. The music swells.
Stefan protests, then goes silent. Bruno returns, wiping his hands. There’s blood on his lapel.
Lenny gets down on one knee. “I love you, Kate. It’s my family. But anyone hurts you, I’ll kill him.” He produces a sparkling rock. “Marry me?”
Tags: Battle, blood, Buccaneer, creative writing, flash fiction, microfiction, Naomi Butterfield, piracy, pirate, scrawl brawl, sea
“So calling me the ball and chain rings true!”
McGrath bellowed his anguish. “Why, Mary?”
Her cutlass sang into its sheath. “I’m a better leader than you and you know it. You stopped listening, McGrath!”
He lunged forward, but the shackle held and he fell.
She knelt. “To the plank? Or would you prefer I made this quick?” He made a grab for his knife. She had it faster, opened his jugular, his gurgled expiration.
“Quick, then.” She palmed his eyes closed. “Him spat from the sea, his salt to return. Ashes to silt.” She sniffed. “I’ll miss ya, Love.”
Tags: Battle, blood, concubine, creative writing, flash fiction, microfiction, Naomi Butterfield, piracy, pirate, sea, ship, short story
Three days pitched into the bowels of this vessel, nibbling bread, her dress was shredded but her corset was intact. She waited. When he came, she smiled, her eyes a liquid black. She held up her hands in surrender, her rings glinting light. He grabbed her roughly. She leapt to him, wrapped her legs around his hips and kissing him, clipped her rings into the razored wire stashed in her corset’s boning. A silver flash passed his vision then bit into his throat, bleeding his surprise down both their chests. She landed on her feet. “I am no man’s booty.”