Sacrifice

by Alex Brightsmith

Some amongst my people said it was sinful to walk upon the face of the Moon, of the Goddess. I did not; is not Mother Earth a goddess?

That made it easier, when the stain spread and She hung there dim and green, when they celebrated their sacrilege and I saw what must be done, to take this job.

She is green, still, but soon She will be brown, and they will know what has been done. They will seek me, doubtless find me, perhaps kill me, but do not grieve.

For She will shine, bone white, above my grave.



Author bio: Alex Brightsmith was born and raised in Bedfordshire and defies anyone who was not to place it on a map. Profligate examples of Alex’s work have been blogged at http://alexbrightsmith.wordpress.com.

Sacrifice is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

Reprieve

by Alex Brightsmith

To have escaped, only to die in a simple robbery; it was absurd. But there were three muggers, and I’d run out of alley.

The first crumpled silently, the second with a grunt. The leader span, slashing wildly. His knife clattered aside, leaving only me and the stranger.

There was a spreading stain on his shirt, but he smiled as if finding me had been the answer to his prayers, and I followed him.

By street light I saw that the stain was green, and my own blood ran cold.

He smiled.

“Missstresss would not have you die sso eassily.”



Author bio: Alex Brightsmith was born and raised in Bedfordshire and defies anyone who was not to place it on a map. Profligate examples of Alex’s work have been blogged at http://alexbrightsmith.wordpress.com.

Reprieve is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

Unpursued

by Alex Brightsmith 

Nobody followed us, not even the athletic young priest who had so nearly caught us.

It was weeks before we allowed ourselves to trust to that appearance, and we frittered away our waning energy on sentry duty as we waited out the heat of the day, and wasted the cool relief of the short nights jumping at shadows.

It was only when we found the skeleton that we understood. We trudged past the long form, stared at the great horned head, bleached white by the unremitting sun. Why pursue us? We had fled into a desert that killed even dragons.



Author bio: Alex Brightsmith was born and raised in Bedfordshire and defies anyone who was not to place it on a map. Bedfordshire is so obscure even its own residents struggle to agree which region it belongs to, and its legacies have been a resistance to categorisation and a lasting fondness for sprouts.

Alex has published two character-driven contemporary thrillers featuring traceuse, thief and potential government agent Kathryn Blake, but is also readily distracted by flash fiction in a range of genres and by the development of an epic fantasy set around the Khyran provinces and the Tormaben plains.

Profligate examples of Alex’s work and can be found at www.alexbrightsmith.wordpress.com.

Unpursued is part of 101 Fiction issue 4.