Below is an entry into [email protected]’s Microfiction Series. He states a word and participants are asked to write a short story (less than 350 words) on the subject. Head over to the article to see his own and any other entries.
I’m seeing this as a great way to practice fiction writing. Who knows, maybe one of these short stories could turn into a book as, when retired, one of my projects is to write an epic fantasy!
It is hard to conceive the destruction one such as he can wreak. A sweet boy, to the casual observer, but hidden from their view lays his insurmountable ability to hate. Not just any old hatred; hatred with a burning passion. The type that is normally reserved for individuals who have suffered from a catastrophic wrong. Some would call one such individual a demon sent from the depths below; a beast to be strung to a stake and burnt. But burnt he cannot be, for the hatred is concealed deep within himself, manifesting only inside his own mind…
‘How dare he speak to me like that! What a swine! A cretin! A dirty little Grumpkin. I’ll show him what it costs to defy me!’ He feels his anger putrefying within his gut and collects it like candy from a jar, he funnels his toxicity into his one singular goal, yearning for it like a mother yearns for her dead child. Beads of sweat form on his brow as he forces his image into existence, bringing it forth from deep within his loins. He sees it, smells it, talks to it, and caresses its smoldering heart. He begins to taste its charred fragrance upon his tongue; this is a friend who he has called upon before.
He eagerly slams his journal shut and bolts through his dormitory door. As he makes his way through the twilight streets he starts to hear shrill voices cry out, “Fire!” Scarlet twinkles begin to catch his eye in the distance as he observes the bellowing flames pouring out of his Professors quarters. Shyly, he smirks to himself; ‘My nights just about to get a whole lot better.’