Here we are at the final regular Flash! Friday prompt. Ever.
The time passing, this coming to end, brings to mind that image of sand slipping through our fingers, flitting by into the part of the hourglass we cannot reach. Though the three-year anniversary celebration is yet to come, I cannot believe this weekly contest is at an end. Somehow, when it started, and when I served as a judge, and when the business side of writing and the realities of life kept me away, I still expected it to remain, always, in wait—a stalwart weekly prompt and reminder to return to my writing.
The one thing I'm grateful for is that I discovered the contest fairly early on, giving me over two and a half years with it in my life. Check out my first ever Flash! Friday story here.
This week, Rebekah brought back the dragon's bidding, requiring this element:
There used to be a door.
Learena forced air into her lungs, her chest heaving. Her hands resettled the hood of her cloak—once again fashionable, and therefore inconspicuous. Still she embraced the shadows of the alleyway, covering the blues and teals and purples of her hair, though in this age the humans all believed it dyed.
Her fingers reached for the crack in the cement, a decades-old remnant of the claw that had torn Zosha through, and away. Had stolen him from her.
Someone had added words.
Breath after breath, she fought the instinct to roar, to change, to be. The phantom of her wings itched in her mind as her weak nails dug into weaker flesh. Taking true form would expose her—to humans, yes, but worse, to the mercenary hopefuls who pursued her.
And not only her.
Humanity hid her like the shadows, so she didn’t have to fight.
So she didn’t have to kill.