So Chuck Wendig is at it again with his flash fiction challenge, which you can find here...
And I finished mine, which can be found below.
The Random Fantasy Character Generator gave me this:
A lovesick thief is being assaulted and pursued by mysterious, demonic spirits.
...and the piece come to 884 words.
For lack of a better idea, let's call it
Monty’s carefully extracted velvet sack of gems rattled in the pocket of his black leather jacket as he ran away from the sound of alarms and police sirens toward his favorite coffee shop. It was located on that street named for a recently scandalized politician, which made him appreciate the place a little more. As a thief, he felt a certain affinity for such creatures.
The affinity was not as strong as his love for Belinda. She of the dangerous curves and foul mouth, the competent use of deadly weapons and questionable fashion sense, of luminous black eyes and raven hair, although now that he thought of it the hair was likely a wig. They had done one job together and he had not been able to get her out of his mind. For the first time in his life, Monty had done the gentlemanly thing and sent flowers.
And heard nothing.
Of course, the fact that the demons that chased him until he reached the door of Café Mud did not help him to forget her. All three of them bore her face.
Safely ensconced behind the bullet and demon proofed glass doors of the café, Monty went up to the counter and ordered his usual while the red-eyed demons stared, seething through the window.
The barista shook his head. “Man, I don’t know what you did but those things aren’t going away. You planning to live here?”
Monty shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
The barista shook his head again. “Not this time, dude. Princess isn’t around to magic you out. He’s at home with his terrier, who is sick.”
Monty swore under his breath. “Well, guess I’m staying here the night then.”
The barista sighed. “Well, you know the price.”
Monty rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm over the counter. A mortar and pestle appeared. He closed his eyes while the barista lanced his arm, blood trickling into the well of the mortar.
“What’s a little blood among friends?” Monty joked.
“You keep giving it away at this rate there won’t be anything left in your veins but cappuccino.”
Monty stared at the demons outside. The screamed and whirled and stuck their tongues out at him. If only one of those tongues was actually Belinda’s.
He blinked with the realization that one of them could be. The likeness of the demons to his beloved made it quite possible that they had her, somewhere. They needed a person’s physical essence to take on their shape. He wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner.
“Hey bartender,” Monty said. “You any good at scrying yet? I know Princess is teaching you the craft.”
“Is it anything to do with those things?”
“Could be. I think they have one of my friends.”
“I don’t know, man. It’s dangerous. If we can find them, they can find us.”
Monty gestured out the window, where the demons were now flipping him the bird and humping the air. “They are already here.”
“Alright, just give me a minute. And don’t tell Princess I did this for you. He could kick me out, or worse, throw me in that mad dungeon and forget that I’m there.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Monty sipped his coffee and waited, playing with the gems in his pocket. Strange the things humans would pay for. The magical world made more sense to him. Blood was the thing there, the stuff of life or death.
The mortar and pestle were replaced with a handheld mirror.
The barista used an eyedropper to cover it with water. He spoke the incantation and Monty tried not to roll his eyes. He didn’t have patience for this kind of thing, but he sure respected the results.
Suddenly, a large hand made of light burst out of the mirror’s frame and grabbed the barista’s face, pulling him forward so that it looked like his head was half-submerged in the mirror.
“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Monty said, rubbing his hands together. He felt so good about it that he took a moment to return the bird to the demons outside.
The barista was let go and stumbled back against a rack of flavored syrups, his face was drenched. He wiped himself off with a towel.
“Monty, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. But what did you see?”
“Does this friend look like those demons?”
“Of course, you know how their magic works.”
“Well, I can tell you this much. She isn’t captured by them, Monty. She’s their queen.”
“Oh crap. My heart is broken all over again. Things NEVER work out between demon queens and humans. DAMN IT!”
“You want another cappuccino? Free this time,” the barista said.
Monty looked at the demons outside again. Maybe they weren’t hunting him for his life force. Maybe, just maybe Belinda, demon queen, had gotten his flowers and this was a sort of invitation.
Monty grabbed a napkin and a black marker, wrote the word “Tomorrow” on it and held it up to the glass. The demons licked their lips and screeched, but nodded and then went away.
“Good news. I have a date!” Monty said.
“Not again, Monty,” the barista groaned.