I’ve shared some short stories and flash fiction of others lately. So, I went back and found this one I wrote. I think writing flash fiction is fun, but I never seem to find the time to do it. But if you have a thought of becoming a writer, this is a great exercise. Remember flash fiction still needs a beginning, a middle and an end.

Hope you like it!

FREEDOM by Lillian Duncan

He stood strong, tall, and proud, his sun-browned muscles at attention while he shot arrows at his captors with his eyes. The wind whipped through his long black hair, revealing a majestic profile.

The shackles on his feet prevented escape.

The angry mob surrounded him. One man screamed, “Kill the savage.” The others took up the chant.

Their gazes met. His, dark, angry, and proud. Hers, soft and blue, held a promise. Acknowledging him with a nod, she picked up the ruffled hem of her dress and stepped forward.

The angry chant dwindled to silence.

“Brothers, sisters. This is not right, not the Christian way.” Her voice as hard and strong as the mountains rising behind her.

“But, he’s a savage.”

She held up a hand to silence. “The judge will decide that. A fair trial. It’s the American way.”

“We knowed he done it.” A voice snarled from the back. “Kill the savage.”

The chanting commenced.

Wind blew through her blonde tresses. Storm clouds darkened overhead.

“We moved here because we were tired of being prosecuted for being different. I will not be a party to such…” Her eyes flashed a challenge. “To such savagery.” She bent down and picked up a rock. “Will you be the one to throw the first stone?”

Women gathered their children, nudged their husbands, and crept toward home. Husbands soon followed. Evening chores awaited.

Her father stepped from the crowd, anger in his eyes. He scowled at her. The star on his chest glimmered in the last rays of the afternoon sun. “Go home.”

She held her head up high as she turned and walked away.

In the quiet darkness, she moved with the stealth of a lioness. The soft sounds of sleep greeted her as she glided past the sleeping sheriff.

Holding up a finger to her mouth, she silenced the prisoner. His dark brown eyes revealed surprise as she slid the key in. Freedom so close now. The cell door squeaked open.

Her father shifted and mumbled in his sleep. Each second seemed a lifetime until his gentle breathing resumed. When the time was right, she stretched out her arm. An invitation, the prisoner gladly accepted as he grasped her soft feminine hand.

They crept through the darkened prison and out into fresh night air. The brightness of the moon above them. She pointed to the horse, his means of escape to freedom.

He didn’t move.

Their eyes met. She stepped away and motioned for him to go. Still he waited. Taking a deep breath, the keys jingled as she laid them on the ground. And then turned back with a smile where he waited.

Her blonde tresses glistened in the moonlight.

His own muscled brown arms offered an invitation to freedom and a promise of love. With both arms, she accepted. With surprising strength and gentleness, he lifted her to him.

He spurred the horse on to freedom—their freedom.


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