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Sunday, March 29, 2015

The Burning Emblem- Flash Fiction

lanterns
photo credit: lanterns via photopin (license)
Angela’s hands slapped against the cold steel wall as she ran headlong into cobblestone alleyway. Shoving away from the wall, she barely managed to evade the light from her pursuers lanterns.

Just a little farther!

She turned down another alleyway to her right just to be met with total darkness.

Wait, what?

Angela’s breath froze in her throat as she peered into the inky blackness in front of her.

A dead end!

She whirled around. Two men illuminated by a single lantern now blocked her only means of escape.

“This’ll teach you to run!” A voice behind her jeered.

Angela heard the swish of the rope seconds before it coiled itself around her legs and pulled taunt sending her sprawling to the ground. Rough hands surrounded and restrained her despite her best efforts to yank herself free.

“Check her ankle for the mark!” A venomous voice commanded from the darkness.

The lantern bobbed closer, allowing Angela to recognize the rough twisted faces of the very men who had burned her parents’ estate to the ground just weeks ago. A bearded man snatched back the cuff of her stocking revealing the royal shield and burning arrow emblem branded into the side of her ankle. Angela tried to twist her foot free from his grasp only to be met with pain in her arms as the men at her sides tightened their grip further.

“Don’t let the criminal escape!” The venomous voice spat.

“It’s her, Argyle.” The bearded man announced.

“Congratulations men! This flailing cur has a price on her head that outweighs any of the traitors we have caught this month! Bag her up, we’ll deliver this one back to Urshelon tonight!”

Urshelon? The platforms must be active again if they’re taking me off planet! Angela’s mind wheeled in alarm.

“I’m no traitor! I’ve lived on Erasted all my life!” Angela shouted.

One of the brute’s slapped a film across her mouth sealing in her protests while they pulled a scratchy burlap bag over her entire body. A hiss and sting in her arm told her that she wouldn’t be conscious for the trip.


Angela woke on the floor of a dimly lit room. The man with the beard shredding the last of the ropes around her legs with a sharp dagger. Angela eyed the dagger warily.

“Good, you’re awake!” The man whispered.

His trembling hands hurried to cut through the ropes binding her ankles and wrists.

“You don’t have long. The clothes on the chair may not be in fashion for a lady of your station, but they will help hide your identity well enough. Leave through the window, hurry and you won’t be noticed!”


The bearded man yanked Angela to her feet and pushed her in the direction of a chair on which a mans tunic and pants lay. The man left quickly and a key clicked in the lock. Angela looked back at the pants and beyond those, the cracked open window beyond which lay her freedom.

500 word Flash Fiction
In the world of Sword Of The White Knight

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