chronicler

Flash Fiction Submission

Added 2017-09-24 10:27:36 +0000 UTC

I participated in a flash fiction contest (where you write a brief text, in this case 300 words max, based on a prompt). I don't imagine much will come of it, but I figured I'd share the text here with you guys, in case any of you got a kick out of reading it.

Betrayed

Corpses littered the battlefield. With no victor, none were left to bury the dead. But one man’s death is another man’s breath; while the lack of burial would make the dead suffer a gruesome existence in the underworld, the birds of carrion would feast. Crows and ravens had amassed already before the battle begin, knowing they would soon be fed. They had waited patiently, burdening the branches of every tree until the fighting erupted. As swords sundered, shields shattered, and spears splintered, the birds rose into the air, flying in circles above where only screams reached them. Their numbers were such that black wings blotted out the sun; the final warriors had the privilege of dying in the shade.

The moment the last man fell to the ground, weapons slipping from his hands, the black birds descended. They spread out across the blood-soaked field and began pecking. Eyes went first. The crows went exclusively for this delicacy, hopping from body to body solely to pick out the softest parts. The ravens were ravenous, however, ripping away the thinner skin from the heads of the fallen.

Hours later, most of the corpses had only hideous masks of flesh left upon their faces, yet the ravens were not satiated. They continued scouring for more. Hopping, skipping, flapping their wings briefly, they progressed efficiently. As another victim was chosen, the ravens closed in. Before consumption could began, a knife shot out and pinned the nearest bird to the ground, making the rest scramble with offended cries. The blade wielder opened one eye to stare at the raven; his other was forever closed. “Tell Odin,” he croaked, “I’m not dead yet. I’m coming for him next.”

Teeth broken, half-blind, countless gashes across his body, the nameless warrior rose to stagger off the battlefield.