However, Tim Jones suggested a gathering to discuss flash fiction informally, so I went along and managed to finish a small piece that I'd started for the contest but never finished in time. My piece seemed reasonably well received and I was pretty happy that Janis Freegard, whose "Elephant" was a runner up at the contest said she liked mine enough to read it twice. Her "Elephant" is brilliant and I was happy she shared it around with the group.
Here's my first attempt at Flash fiction. The only rule - it has to be 300 words or less.
The Love of a Woman
In the words of a great man, my father and Lord of the Eastern Marches, the love of a woman is the greatest thing and after that, all other things are a distant concern.
While I have never doubted this before, I admit a hesitation at the moment. It is a great concern that she holds a knife to my throat, right here, in my bedroom as I have just awoken. I think she is here to kill me, but I can't help but love her.
She is wrapped in black silk, the traditional garb of the Ismali assassins. Only her eyes are visible and what eyes they are! They are obsidian, black pupils on black irises. And the fierceness! Oh... it is like a tiger watching its prey.
I don't know what I have done to deserve that look, but if I knew, I would do it again every day of the rest of my life.
I imagine our life together and meeting her family. I wonder which parent she got her eyes from. I hope it is her mother, for two angels are better than one. I KNOW I will get along with her parents. I will make every effort.
If a client pays extra, they can request the most blatant show of contempt and the assassin will remove their mask before striking the killing blow. It is a slow ritual, a removal of the mask as they hold the knife to your throat. I wait in anticipation, so hoping that the client has paid the maxium sum.
Yes, she begins to unwind the silk strip, slowly, with utmost precision and control, anticlockwise, so I always remain in sight. It comes away revealing what is sure to be a glorious face.
No... she's not really my type.