A Spark Around the Forge

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


The awkward heaviness of the sword, made his swing go wide. The flying creature closed the distance between them, diving at Ian's face. Up close all Ian could see were the violent movements of wet membranous wings and chawing mouths. He threw up his left hand to try and ward it off. Searing pain erupted along his forearm. Screaming, he clubbed the creature with the pommel of the sword. Over and over he hit it until the something audibly cracked and the creature fell to the ground twitching. Wing spasms made it flop around. Ian followed it, determined to end it. He raised the sword over his head and brought it down as hard as he could. The blade sunk halfway into the mouthed body and it shuddered one final time. Then the wings relaxed and it moved no more.

Breathing heavily, Ian nearly collapsed as strength left his body. The sword stopped his fall and he hung on it like a drowning man's branch. His entire body ached with deep soreness except for his left arm which was fire. He'd need to bandage that soon.


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Comments (1 so far!)

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

And that was only one! Imagine if there had been two! He'd probably bleed to death. He needs a better weapon.

Good job on the scene, though. Very well done.

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