Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
The wood creaked beneath Evet’s feet as she inched toward the group illuminated beneath the docks end’s swinging lantern. The waves rolled beneath, urging her forward then back. Back to safety, if it existed.
Hearth thumping, she reached them too quickly. With the light behind, shadows darkened their faces and Evet couldn’t read their expressions when they filed past lifting cloaks over their faces to refuse her acknowledgement.
Only Amine remained. Steady Amine who’d watched the nest. Watched over littles, midlings, and sprouts. All twigs left forlorn at the last culling. Amine, who’d turned to face the ocean.
Evet stepped forward touching her shoulder. “Amine?” Wind snapped the woman’s cloak, loud in the silence. An answer enough, but she couldn’t retreat. “Tell me it isn’t true?”
Amine stirred. Her feet shifting heavily over the planks as she turned, eyes dropping and refusing to meet Evet’s. The answer lay there too.
It’s so.
Whether Amine muttered the words, or they thundered in her mind. Evet couldn’t say.
They’d come again. The deep giant hunted the brood of those taken last gathering. They’d taken Fosco, eldest and bravest of the midlings.
She turned toward the waves and the lurking doom.
No. She’d not let them choose at their leisure.
Waves rolled beneath as she sprinted and catching her as she leapt form the dock. The water pulling her down and out, and she finger split on the knife’s edge she carried.
No, she’d not wait. Kicking, she swam toward the giants.
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