"Behold, the Knife of Ages," intoned Elder Xi, holding aloft the blade and drawing it quickly across the throat of the unfortunate victim, who, his eyes still fixed on mine, expired in a pool of blood.
"I have need of it," I said flatly. The black gloves on my hands itched with perspiration, or was that anticipation.
Elder Xi snapped her fingers and an underling rushed forward, porcelain skin matching the pot and cup she carried. "Drink of this bitter herb and see thy fate," the Elder said, her aged voice rasping in my ears.
Without hesitation, I gulped down what was offered, my gaze captured for a moment by the servant's ample bosom. Then the drug took hold and my vision swam and reformed, and I was standing on a precipice overlooking the castle of my brother, and it was burning brightly.
Then my blood slowed and I felt without seeing as the servant, her true form revealed, put her lips to my neck and drank deep . Betrayal, no. Merely the price that had to be paid for the work ahead.
No idea. Well, okay, sort of an idea. I saw this picture and immediately all I could think of was sex doll, because that's what it looks like. I know it's probably actually a 3D render, but she looks plastic. And there's something to be said for going with first impressions, but they don't call me difficult for nothing.
So I ruminated on it for a while. More than a while. I'm writing this perilously close to the deadline, actually. What can I say? This week has been a busy one and while I attempted to come back to Flash Fiction Friday a number of times, I kept being stymied by my first impressions of the image.
180 words is barely enough to scrape together a good description of something, let alone a plot, and I think I've been hamstringing myself for the past few weeks trying to "For sale: baby shoes, never worn," when I really should just write vignettes and if there's a plot, great.
Which led me to the decision that I was going to write something which had nothing to do with the image and just hope that the fertile imagination of the reader would fill in the blanks where I couldn't. So Elder Xi sacrificed a victim using the Knife of Ages, and I figured I could write another 150 words or so about that and...
But I couldn't do it. I couldn't pull the trigger. I had to involve the image, so I involved it in some meaningless way, only I got toward the end of the little vignette and wouldn't you know it, she turned out to be the real mover and shaker of the piece and I should just quit while I'm ahead some days.
None of this should be read as criticism of the challenge, by the way. They're supposed to be challenging, not easy. I'm trying to stretch muscles which have lain dormant for lo these many months and years, and I'm not quite up to my old form but each time I push myself a little, I get better. Maybe one day I'll be back to writing Beowulf pastiche.
Yes, this one isn't particularly sexy. Sorry not sorry.
One thing I'm not sorry at all about is participating in Flash Fiction Friday, hosted as always by the inimitable Max. Visit him to see the challenge and other takes on it, because while I can pretty much guarantee that no one else included the Knife of Ages, I bet there are sexier takes.
And if there aren't, you have no one to blame but yourself. You can join in and write that sexy story you thought we should obviously have written. It was staring us right in the face, and we didn't, but you can. Join us. Grasp the Knife of Ages and pay the price for your power!
Something like that.
Take the picture and run in any direction you want. I'm watching the last season of "The Last Warrior" and it certainly sounds like something the barbarians would do. It's always fun to drop in and say hello.
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