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Friday Fictioneer: Slave Bones, Part 5

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Slave Bones:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 /

This is a tricky one for me trying to fit it into the slave bones series. The link to the prompt is here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

 

Rordan glanced about anxiously, suppressing the urge to awaken the guards at the sight of an unknown figure in the distance which created no threat for the time being. He scanned the dark horizon once more, it was incredibly hard to penetrate the blackness of the night’s shadowy blanket, this time he couldn’t see the figure. Fatigue played tricks with your mind, it brought up premonitory images and cast hallucinations of the unwanted or most wanted.

A strange gurgling howl rippled through the night, the howl of a Gunkiar. Rordan was overcome by trembling, he whimpered for a guard but his voice had been snatched by fear. Suddenly two white eyes blinked in the near distance, like two polished shells laying side by side on a black sand beach. They were pupil-less eyes, sparkling like sunshine spangled water, they disappeared and the squishy shuffling of a Gunkiar’s movements followed.

Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 3

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Slave Bones:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 /

Another friday fiction prompt here again already, and now I’m thinking I shouldn’t have based the Slave Bones series in the desert. We’ll see what happens, the link to friday fictioneers is here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

 

Red sand seemed to stretch for light-years, carmine like the blazing eyes of an Ignis girl Rordan had met before he’d been thrust into the talons of slavery. He dazed out upon the barren land, his hands working automatically with a hammer to pummel the crumbling bricks.

 As he worked mechanically Rordan picked a random memory out of the many orbiting his brain. Images of lush green foliage strung to mind, rows of bursting vines with an abundance of succulent purple grapes just waiting to be picked. The memory of sweet fermenting grapes and crisp clean air was so strong Rordan could smell it there and then.

That summer had been unforgettable, when the tension between Ignis and Aluctions seemed to have settled and Rordan had felt free of malice. That was before the ‘Tear’ had happened.

Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 1

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Slave Bones Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 /

Friday again! The Sharp Ends series has finished with a not so sharp end, if you’d like to read it, click here. And if you want the link to the friday fictioneers prompt, that’s here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

Lasers of sunlight beamed down on the slaves, Rordan in particular was suffering the most. He was the youngest of the slaves by more than ten years, captured for a crime he couldn’t help. His blue eyes swam about languorously, following the shimmering horizon and imagining a large expanse of fresh water over the next rise.

 There was no rise though, no hills protruded from the land for miles around, it was flat and barren and inhospitable. The land was so flat and desolate that Rordan could see the curvature of the planet.

“Look at that ya filthy, walking sh**s!” One of the guards with the flaming red eyes of Ignis kingdom chortled, pointing to a distant shape. Rordan squinted into the distance, the sun was diving under the horizon and silhoutted before it was a derelict building.