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Tag Archives: Randomized Fiction

Randomized Fiction 3

26 Friday Aug 2022

Posted by crashdlanding in Fiction, Randomized Fiction, Uncategorized

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Queen & Picnic Basket

Book cover created with Canva (as always)
Listen to this story on Spotify

“The king has requested your presence.” These were the first words she heard from anyone outside of her personal staff this morning. It was Alrick, the King’s personal butler. Alrick was a stiff, cold, older gentleman. She had been told he’d been with the king since his father ruled. “The king would like for you to join him for luncheon in the gardens this afternoon.” Alrick said. He then promptly turned on his heel and left the room.

“I suppose no is not an option.” She said aloud.
Elamya had been betrothed to the king, Drane, since she was a child. She was raised to be a queen to this man she only met once before their marriage. She was a good daughter and had always done as she’d been told, knowing her only possible future was as a queen to this king.

The night of their marriage was the moment she had been the most nervous for, she’d had butterflies. However, she learned more about King Drane in their brief encounter that night than she ever wanted to know.

“My lady?” Georgina, her handmaiden, who had come with her from her childhood home. “I’m not sure you should go.” Her brows were furrowed, and lips pursed.

“I apparently have no choice, Georgie.” Elamya said, sipping the tea Georgina had just poured.
“He is the king, I must do as he says.”

“But he hurt you.” The concern in her voice was palatable. Georgina was the only servant she’d been allowed to bring with her to her new home.
Elamya remembered that night, the night that made her hide in her rooms for days. She still had bruises to remind her. Georgina had been the one to come to her aid.

It had been a week. A full week since their marriage and that terrible night. Georgina and her other servants had cared for her, fed her, ensured she had what she needed. Drane had largely ignored her lack of presence at court. He’d sent notes via Alrick a handful of times, checking in. They all contained veiled threats about what would come, regardless of whether or not she left her rooms.

“He has made it abundantly clear what he expects of me, and what he plans to do to me, regardless of how long I choose to stay in these rooms.” She looked around at the opulent sitting room. She’d been given these rooms, and had inspected them the day of the ceremony. She’d been in such awe of the elegance and beauty. With windows overlooking the gardens she had no shortage of things to admire.

“I won’t have him hurt you, my lady.” Georgina could be stubborn, Elamya had allowed it to an extent over the years. Her handmaiden was fiercely protective of her.

King Drane had made zero effort to learn anything about her other than what he’d learned that violent night. One thing he failed to learn was that she’d been taught that she deserves to be treated with respect as does anyone else, and take disrespect from no one. Whether this applied to the king, she wasn’t sure, nor did she care.

“My dear Georgie,” she said, sitting her tea cup on the tray before her. “Your kindness and loyalty is most precious to me. But I do not need your protection.” She said, patting the seat beside her. When Georgina sat, she continued, “but I do need your assistance.”

A few minutes later, Georgina carried the tea tray to the kitchen on the lowest floor of the castle. A heavy weight in her apron pocket thumped against her leg as she’d descended the stone stairs.

She sat the tray to the side with the rest of the morning’s soiled dishes, and surveyed the room. On a table near the stoves was a basket. “Is this the luncheon being prepared for this afternoon?” She asked one of the cooks.

“Yes,” mumbled the cook. “His majesty requested a picnic in the gardens.”

Georgina grasped the lump in her pocket. “I’ll carry it out, ma’am, when it’s time.” She said. “I’d like to assure her highness there’s offerings to her liking.”

“Take a gander now if you like, it’s nearly ready,” the cook said, putting her hands to her hips. “But his majesty has preferences who handles his food. Besides, it’s he who sets the menu round here.”

“Thank you, cook,” Georgina said, and waited for the grumpy old woman to turn back around. She grabbed the lump from her apron pocket and quickly slipped it in under a long loaf of bread. The white cloth of the wrapping hid well in the depths of the picnic basket.

“Alight, get your hands out of there!” The cook had turned, and was about to pull the basket away.

A throat cleared behind Georgina, and she jumped in surprise. “Allow the help to do their jobs, cook.” He said, glancing in Georgina’s direction. “As you’ve been reminded, everyone is replaceable. Even you.”

“Everything seems to my lady’s liking, and smells lovely as well. Thank you, cook. Your work is appreciated.” Georgina made a small bow to both, and turned to leave as the cook grunted in response.

“I do hope everything is to her majesty’s liking,” Alrick said low to Georgina as she passed. “I will send for her when it’s time.”

A few minutes later, Georgina was back in Elamya’s rooms and helping her ready for luncheon with the king. “I’m afraid he saw me my lady.” She whispered, even though they were alone.

“Nonsense, he would have said something immediately.” Elamya wrung her hands as Georgina brushed her hair. “Was it wrapped well?”

“It was indeed, my lady.” She began the intricate twists and braids for the delicate style.

“We must hope against hope that he suspects nothing, lest we both be in more than we could imagine.” Elamya said, closing her eyes.

“I shall take the fall for you, my lady,” Georgina said proudly. “I will protect you at all costs.”

“You are the sister I never had, so I shouldn’t let you do that.” She grabbed Georgina’s hand and squeezed. “Besides, I don’t think I could continue this life without you with me.”

A half hour later, a footman knocked on the door announcing it was time. Elamya insisted Georgina stay in the rooms, and the footman escorted her down to the gardens.

Elamya did as she was taught, and put on her golden mask. A mask of demure and kindness, when inside all she had was fear and something she’d so rarely experienced. Anger.

King Drane’s outward appearance belied what he was really like. He was tall and handsome, with bright blue eyes and silvery blonde hair. The afternoon sun turned it golden, and his wide grin spread across his face. But she could see the sinister in his eyes. The brightness was a facade, like a shining silver mask hiding black malevolence. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“I am perfectly safe,” Drane shooed away the two footmen who stood on each side of him. They reluctantly trotted away. “And I’m perfectly capable of emptying a picnic basket myself,” he gestured halfheartedly to the butler that stood beside the basket. With a quick bow he too, left. And the king and queen were completely alone.

Elamya’s stomach twisted itself into knots as Drane gestured toward the cushioned stools that sat on either side of the small table where the picnic basket sat. She glanced at the basket, and ignored the hand he offered to help her sit. He took the seat opposite her, taking a moment to adjust his position.

She glanced around the gardens, at the lovely flowers that surrounded them. Had the circumstances been different, she would have strolled along the flower beds, smelling each plant, perhaps choosing flowers for a vase in her room. But this was not the time, perhaps she might never have a chance.

“The gardens are lovely, your highness,” she began, still looking at the flowers, but keeping him in her peripheral vision. “Whose artistic vision can be thanked for such beauty?”

“Certainly not me,” he said, halfheartedly, while pouring them both a cup of tea. “I hate flowers. The gardens were apparently the former queen’s work.”

“Your mother? I’m sure she was a lovely woman, I wish I could have met her.” Elamya said, thinking she might have shed a light on his cruelty. “What was she like if I may ask?”

Drane rolled his eyes. “She was a woman, her only purpose was to bear children. And that she did well.” He said snuggly sitting up straighter. “My father insisted he raise me.” He sighed. “Of course a king should say how a king should be raised. What does a woman know of ruling?”

“A sight more than you’d expect, I’m sure.” She thought this, but didn’t dare say it.

“Of course, this will be the way for our marriage. Should you bear me a son right away, I shall have no further need of you, and you may continue to hide away in your rooms as you have been.” He said, glaring at her over his cup of tea.

“And should I bear a daughter? What then?”

“Oh you can do what you want with it. I care only for sons. The line of succession is male, it always has been. If you provide a female child I’d prefer to not lay eyes on it at all.”

Elamya imagined his eyes falling on a new born baby girl, and his being unable to resist the urge to toss the child out of the window of the birthing suite. She stifled a shudder to not reveal her fear or anger at the thought. “And should I bear all females, or am barren?” She asked, afraid of the answer.

“Then I’d have no use for you. We are only wed for the legitimacy of a male heir. Should you be unable to provide that which you are required, then our arrangement,” the emphasis he placed on the last word was upsetting, “shall be ended.”

Elamya did not want to know what that meant.

“What if,” she took a deep breath, “after the events of the night of our marriage, I should not want to share a bed with you ever again?”

He stopped in the middle of a sip of tea and did not say a word. He just stared at her with his cold blue, no, not blue, gray, gray eyes. Finally he set the delicate porcelain tea cup aside. He spoke in a flat tone, clearly controlling an anger inside, “Our marriage is nothing more than a binding contract that says I own you. You belong to me and I will do to you what I please. You may try to hide in your well appointed rooms with your homely little handmaiden. But those rooms are in my castle and that maid is paid with my coin. And every other person in this castle and in these grounds is paid with my coin. Had I wanted access to you before today, I would have had it. Do not think you can refuse me. I am the king and I do what I want.”

“I am no man’s property,” fear and anger had boiled up inside her and she’d practically shouted the words. She stood and turned to rush away but he was faster. She heard behind her the tea set topple over, clattering, and the contents of the picnic basket overturn.

He grabbed her arm with a vise-like grip and squeezed, spinning her to face him. She went to slap him with her gloved hand, knowing full well that it’d do nothing, but he caught her hand with his and held it tight. She screamed in pain and in hopes to alert someone, but he shook her to silence her.

“They may hear you scream but they know better than to disturb me.” He growled the words into her ear and began to force her to the ground. She knew immediately what was happening.

He laid his full weight on top of her, forcing her arms over her head with one of his large hands. She tired to wiggle and kick away from him but his weight and force was too great. He tore at trim of her bodice, ripped it away and exposing slowly fading bruises and bite marks she had covered and tired to forget. All injuries from the first time he’d abused her.

She stifled a cry, she would not let him hear her cries this time, he’d seemed to relish in them before. She would deny him this one pleasure. He fought to lift the layers of her gown, layers he hadn’t had to deal with before, in attempt to expose her to the elements. She looked away from the horrifying grimace in his face and saw the bundle that had been placed in the picnic basket by a loyal friend.

He was grunting in frustration at the many layers, and in his anger and rush his grip on her wrists faulted and she did not let the opportunity pass. With lightning reflexes one only has in moments of duress, she reached for the bundle, the glint of Damascus steel shining in the sunlight, grabbed the jewel encrusted handle, and swung.

She felt the sharp point of the dagger enter his flesh, and plunge deep into his side. She heard him grunt and his face switch from violence to shock. The color drained from his cheeks and he coughed. She felt something wet on her face and saw dark, almost black blood dripping from his agape mouth. His eyes then rolled back into his head as he sputtered wetly one last time then slumped lifeless onto her still bear chest.

Elamya lay beneath the body of the now expired King Drane, fist still clenching the hilt of the dagger, blood running down her hand as stones bit into her gloved palm. When she heard softened footsteps on grass approach, panic started to set in and she could not move. She closed her eyes and waited for the ax to fall.

“We should get you cleaned up my lady.” It was not the voice of her companion, handmaiden, and one true friend and ally in the castle she heard. But the voice of the servant said to be most loyal to the king. Alrick ungraciously rolled the king’s corpse off of her, covered her exposed upper body with a linen napkin from the overturned picnic basket and offered her a gloved hand.

She took it, numbly. She hadn’t expected Alrick of all people to assist her in this moment. She got to her feet, swaying, and he steadied her with a hand at her elbow.

She then watched as he pulled the dagger from Drane’s side, and blood oozed out of the wound. He wrapped the dagger in cloth and dropped another less unique blade beside the body. He turned toward her once more, and offered her his arm. She took it with her clean hand, and he said, “A warm bath will be drawn for you. We must clean you up, we have much to discuss.”


There’s a bit more of the story in me. If you’d like an extension, please let me know. Just not tonight!


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Randomized Fiction 3 this Friday!

10 Wednesday Aug 2022

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Randomized Fiction 3 this Friday!

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BMB: Randomized Fiction 2

29 Friday Jul 2022

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Day 29: In Which I Write Fiction RANDOMLY!

Role & Dog

“You should get a dog.” The phrase was uttered to Russ Frye about a million times. “I’m not a dog person,” he always said. It seemed like he had to say it constantly.

You’d never hear him admit that yes, the cabin got lonely sometimes. But he grew to like being alone. He’d sold the house in the city. It took him a while to give it up. But it just wasn’t the same anymore. And the cabin brought him peace. The quiet solitude of being surrounded by nothing but the woods. The sound of the nocturnal animals prowling, the birds chirping undisturbed in the morning. It was this peace he needed, he craved. And having a dog wasn’t going to do him any good.

The cabin that had become his one and only residence sat deep in the woods, at the end of a long road down a slow sloping mountain. Between late spring and early fall, Russ preferred to walk the ten-minute trip to the mailbox. Because after all, he wasn’t a complete recluse, and still received mail.

This day, a warm June morning, he grabbed his walking stick and messenger bag, threw on a hat to keep the sun off his head, and began the trip down. Animals in land and air were active, rabbits and squirrels and he even saw a hawk swooping around the canopy. He liked to watch nature as he walked, looking out for snakes as well.

As he got closer to what could be considered the nearest main road, he began to hear a rustling in the undergrowth to his right. Whatever it was definitely wasn’t rabbit or squirrel, it was bigger. Russ wasn’t afraid of much out here, he was cautious, and respectful that there were things out there that could do more harm than good. So, he stayed in the center of the road, keeping his eyes open all around him. The one thing he was afraid of he had yet to encounter face to face: a bear.

A few minutes later and he’d made it to the mailbox. He’d hand built it a few years back, to hold larger mail items he’d sometimes had sent to the cabin. This time there was a package about the size of a shoebox, a part he’d ordered to fix the generator in preparation for winter. Never too early to prepare, and it’ll be his first full winter in the cabin since making it his permanent residence.

He shoved what he could in the messenger bag and tucked the package under his arm. After latching the box back, he turned back onto the road home. It didn’t take him but a few minutes until he heard the rustling in the leaves again. He suddenly felt like he was being stalked, like a deer being hunted. He stopped, and the sound stopped. He gripped the walking stick, prepared to use it as a weapon. The pocketknife he kept on him at all times would be harder to get to.

He waited for a brief moment, then heard a loud crash and a growl. A blur of motion came from his right, darting out of the edge of the trees and onto the road. It took him a few minutes to register that the dark cloud of dust and fur was a dog. A dog that had a hold of something and wasn’t letting go.

Russ backed up as the tussle ensued, and, squinting his eyes he saw that the dog had a snake in its maw. It was shaking its head violently only until it knew it was done. When everything settled down, the dog dropped what was once a rattlesnake and looked up at Russ, panting.

The snake had been right in front of Russ, and the stray dog happened to see it first. Who knows what might have happened had it not been for the dog? He used the end of his walking stick to nudge the snake, which was in fact lifeless, and then picked it up and tossed it over the embankment to the right. He looked back at the dog, who looked at him, still panting.

“What?” Russ asked the animal. “You want me to thank you?” The dog let out a small “ruff” between pants. “Fine. Thank you.” And Russ continued passed it. He didn’t make it three feet before he realized the dog was following him. Russ would stop for a moment, standing still, and the dog would stop. But when he continued walking, the dog followed, slowly, and at a distance. But still, he followed.

He grumbled to himself about dogs and how he didn’t like them all the way back to the cabin. When he got there, he quickly glanced behind him to see that the dog stood, at the end of the walk. He stepped inside and closed and locked the cabin door. “It’ll go away.”

He got distracted by sorting the mail and opening the package to check the part and was about to make some lunch when he thought to look outside. He walked to the door and looked out the window to see the dog sat at the bottom step to the porch, just looking up at the cabin. It was still panting but stopped when it saw Russ looking at it. He groaned and let the curtain fall back over the window and went to make his lunch.

After he’d eaten, he stood to take his scraps out to compost, when he remembered the dog. He checked to see if it was still there, and lo and behold, there it was still panting away. But it had decided to sneak onto the porch where he laid just at the edge. Russ looked down at the scraps in his hand, and the dog resting on his porch, with its head on its paws, just staring at him.

“I’m not a dog person.” he told the dog. It stood as he approached. He dropped the dish of scraps before the mutt, and it looked up at him, then down at the scraps, as if asking permission. “Yeah yeah, just eat already.” The dog began to eat hungrily. “You’re not staying.” he warned.

The dog ate up, and looked at Russ, still panting. “Water,” he said. “You need water.” The late afternoon sun was bearing down and heating up, so it was quite warm out. Russ got an old bowl from inside and filled it with water. The dog’s tail was wagging left to right so hard Russ wondered how the animal didn’t flip over or fly off into the air. When it was done it sat down and looked up at him once more.

“Okay fine,” he told the dog, you can stay. But you have to earn your keep. You have a job. You keep the snakes at bay, and I’ll feed and water you. That’s your job. That’s your role. Got it.” The dog’s tail slapped the porch over and over, and it let out a “Ruff” in response. “And you can sleep on the porch. That’s the rules.”

A few weeks pass. The arrangement between Dog and Russ seems to work for them. “Russ, you finally got a dog?” Elliot Larson, an old friend of Russ’s asks.

“No.” Russ adamantly responds. “It followed me back from the mailbox, killed a snake in my path, and followed me home.

“So, he chose you.”

“No, I allowed it to stay.”

“Bro, ‘it’ is a he.” Elliot said, looking at the dog, whose tail thumped happily on the wood porch planks as he watched the conversation. “Have you named him?”

Russ chuckled, as if the idea was absurd. “No, why would I name it?”

“Him, that’s rude. You should name him.” Elliot said. “He saved your life; he deserves to be named.”

“Pfft. I would have been fine.” Russ new very well he would not have been fine. “If I name him, he’ll stay.”

“He’s not going anywhere unless you’re going too. Look at him.”

“Fine, you name him.”

“Cool, cool. Let’s see.” Elliot stared at the dog that shall be named and thought for a moment. “Speedy.” The dog’s ears perked up.

Russ laughed. “What?! Speedy, really?”

“Yep, look he likes it. Speedy!”

Speedy stood up and looked from Elliot to Russ.

“He was pretty quick on the draw with that snake.”

“It’s meant to be, man. Meant to be.”

“What?”

“You and the dog.”

Russ rolled his eyes at his friend but said nothing else on the subject.

A few days later, a summer storm was blowing in, and Russ was preparing the cabin for immanent weather. The structure was sound, and the seals were good, but when wanted to be sure the windows were protected and tools, equipment, and other outdoor implements were safe and secure. Speedy followed him everywhere. But as the evening grew on and the storms got closer, he clung to Russ.

“Back off, you’re going to trip me!” he nudged the dog with the toe of his boot, hoping for some space.

Soon darkness fell and the windows were shuttered. The wind began to whole and whine. But then Russ had to listen, there was a sound that couldn’t have been the wind. He got up from his chair and walked to the door. There on the other side, against the bottom, Speedy lay whining. His nose was tucked under his paws and his tail was tucked under his body.

Russ groaned because he knew what he was about to do. “I’m not a dog person!” he told himself as he opened the door. Speedy did something he’d never been tempted to do before and darted inside the house, and rather quickly found Russ’ bed and hid himself under it. Within minutes thunder clapped and ran soon began pelting the log exterior of the cabin.

Throughout the night Russ offered the dog water and food but Speedy refused to come out from under the bed. When he could stay up on more Russ gave in and crawled into bed and went to sleep. The next morning, with sun shining through the window, Russ woke to something went nuzzling his hand, which hung of the edge of the bed. He looked over the edge and Speedy had been licking his hand.

Soon it was August, and it was not a good month for Russ. The constant influx of only slightly unwanted visitors didn’t help. The rush of memories that he was trying to avoid by coming to the cabin was only worsened by the people who arrived. The bulk of conversation started with, “I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” “How you are holding up?” and “You finally got a dog!”

But worse of all were June and John. He never expected to see them, didn’t think they’d want anything to do with him. When he expressed as much to them, they were kind. “Russ, dear,” Judy began, tears already welling in her eyes. “Just because she’s gone, doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”

She, of course was the reason he came back to the cabin. She’d loved the cabin and the time they’d spent there, as little as it had been. She was the one who’d often talked about living there full time.

“Kellie really did love it here, didn’t she?” John, Kellie’s father said, looking at a picture of she and Russ taken on the porch.

“She did.” Was all he could say.

Their visit didn’t last long. Of course, they knew he wasn’t being rude on purpose. Losing her was still raw for all of them. But he didn’t know how to react when the subject became her.

When they’d left, and there were no more visitors, Russ quietly made himself an early dinner. He sat down to eat it but ended up just staring at the food with his fork in hand. Then all the pain he’d held inside all day, all the pain he’d been hiding from in the cabin in the woods suddenly burst forth and he could not hold it back any longer.

He stood up from his chair, tears in his eyes, and took heavy steps over to the wall where their pictures hung. Wedding pictures, pictures of the fish they caught in the lake–she’d thrown her catch back, pictures of her smelling wildflowers she’d gathered on one of their walks.

He fell to his knees in grief, sobbing. He pulled at his own hair pounded himself in the chest, trying to feel something else, anything else, but the tears just came.

Then so did the dog. The dog he did not want. First Speedy crept toward him, practically crawling. Then he inched forward and laid down at his feet. He put a paw on Russ’s leg. When he continued to sob, Speedy crawled into Russ’s lap, and used h on is nose to nuzzle away his hands from his face and head. Then, Speedy began to lick Russ’s face until finally, Russ wrapped his arms around the dog and held him.

To Be Continued… in the morning… sorry.

Apologies for my delay in finishing. Between dozing off and hearing The Kid whinnying in her sleep from a room away, I had to call it. Here’s the rest of the story.

Soon Russ’s sobs calmed and he just sat holding Speedy. When he finally took a deep breath and pulled away from the dog, he looked down at the mutt and said, “you need a bath.”

The next day was spent cleaning and brushing the dog he didn’t want. The dog that saved him from a snake. The dog that waited patiently for acknowledgement and was scared of storms. The dog that accepted his role as protector. And Russ himself began to quietly accept his role as dog owner. Even if he wasn’t a dog person.

Soon it was fall, and Russ began to go on walks in the woods to forage for what he could before it became too cold, and before plants slept for the winter. Speedy would follow, though there were less snakes about. They were companions now, it was more of enjoying such other’s company than anything.

As they walked together through paths they’d traveled before, picking through the brambles and brush, Russ talked to Speedy, about all the things he and Kellie would be doing now. He’d taken to talking to the dog about his late wife. He’d told him about how she’d gotten cancer, and how it had been further along than they’d realized. She toughed it out for a while, but eventually she gave in to the doctors, and took the pain pills they’d offered. She didn’t suffer.

Once he’d gotten it all out, he’d felt comfortable talking to Speedy about all the good times they’d had, how she loved the cabin. And Speedy listened like he’d understood.

As they walked this day, Russ had nothing on his mind but the crisp air, and seeing what he could find. He didn’t hear the rustling of the leaves, the snapping of branches. He didn’t hear anything until Speedy stopped walking. And started growling.

Russ had never heard the dog growl before, bark, yes, at squirrels in the front yard. Rabbits in the bushes. But never growling. He looked at the growling dog beside him, not quite baring his teeth, then up in the direction Speedy’s nose was pointed.

He saw the movement, much larger than the dog, a black lump not too distant, lumbering in their direction. Black bears were common in the area, but rarely seen, as they stayed in the woods. Not many people lived in the woods. Not many people wandered around the woods.

Except Russ. And his now very tense dog.

And Black bears were about the only animal Russ was afraid of. He started to back slowly up, calling for Speedy. But Speedy did nothing but growl.

“Come on, boy.” He called the dog. “Just come back to the house.” If the bear didn’t see them, it couldn’t feel threatened and it would be fine, he thought to himself.

He grasped at Speedy, trying to pull him back, regretting never putting a collar on him. “Calm down, let’s go.” He kept his tone low and even to not startle either the dog or the bear. “Don’t start a fight you can’t win, buddy.”

The bear inched closer, finally looking up and sniffing the air. “Jesus that’s a big bear,” Russ said aloud. He toyed with the idea of grabbing Speedy by the scruff and dragging him.

The bear made a grunting nose and stood up on its hind legs, looking at them. It continued to sniff the air but made no move to advance.

Hackles raises, Speedy stepped forward and began barking loudly at the bear, growling between barks, and snapping the air. The bear made a woofing grumble in response to Speedy’s barking. It flopped back down ion all fours once again.

Speedy lunged in the bear’s direction, snapping and barking at it. the bear, instead of doing anything more aggressive, huffed at Speedy, shook its head as if you say, “Fine, I’ll leave!” Then turned around and lumbered off.

Speedy did not let down his guard until the bear could not be seen, and the sounds of it traversing the woods were distant. He then looked up to Russ, waiting for praise, with what could only be describable as a smile and his tongue hanging out.

“You’re an idiot.” Russ said bluntly. “But that bear wasn’t having any of your nonsense.” He scratched his protector behind the ears. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They turned back toward the cabin and walked in silence.

“You know, I never said you had to fight off bears.”


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BMB: Randomized Fiction

15 Friday Jul 2022

Posted by crashdlanding in BMB, Fiction, Randomized Fiction

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Day 14: Randomized Fiction
If you’d like to hear me read this story instead, or perhaps follow along, check out the CrashdLanding Podcast!
Book Cover created with Canva

“I say, I’m the oldest, I make the rules!” Ed said, slamming his hands down in the table, disrupting the sheets and forms atop it.

“And I say we go with my idea!” Bea said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And I say we charge in with guns blazing and tear the place UP! WOOHOO!” Xavier said gesturing with dual finger guns raised

The elder two looked at him like he was crazy. He always was a little wild, ever since they were little.

“Okay, okay,” Ed began again, after a minute. “Let’s maybe grab a snack, sit down, and we’ll talk this out.”

“Fine.” Bea reluctantly agreed.

After they’d all eaten, and were no longer hangry. They got back to planning.

“Now that we’re all done with that,” Ed began, I say we just start at the beginning.”

Bea and Xavier nodded in agreement.

“What’s the mission again.” He asked them.

“I still say gu—.”

“NO.”

Xavier crossed his arms. “Fine.” He mumbled.

“If it comes down to us needing guns then something has gone terribly wrong.” Ed said.

“But it probably wouldn’t hurt, just for protection, just in case.” Bea said.

Xavier’s eyes lit up. “I know just who to ask!” They all knew who he’d ask.

“Okay, we’ve satisfied someone, now, back to the important part.” Ed said. “How are we going to get the painting back?”

The painting in question was one by their famous aunt, C.F. Keathley. It was called, “A Woman’s Wish”. The subject was a lighthouse on a cliff. It wasn’t her best work, but it had meaning. It also had a hidden secret. The painting had been accidentally sold at an estate sale two years prior. Their aunt had gone missing and was declared legally dead by her husband, their evil uncle. Because of her fame, the painting fetched a hefty price, and the uncle and soon moved to Japan with his new wife.

“Sofia gave us the name of the person who has it, he’s a museum curator, right?”

“Yes, his name is Roderick Bridges.” He said, looking at a sheet of paper. “He runs the Umbratic Museum of Modern Art.” Ed said, “Apparently he’s wanted to have a installation of Aunt C’s art there for years.”

“Umbratic is a weird word.” Bea said. She googled it. “It means shadowy. That’s questionable.”

“Not funny ha ha, funny weird.” Xavier said. “I’ve contacted Pops. He’ll have what we need ASAP.” The elder too nodded. Pops was code name for their supplier. He got them what they needed when they needed it. He was also a cantankerous old man, stubborn and set in his ways. “He said it’ll cost us, though.”

“He always says that.” Bea said.

“Okay, back to the plan.” Ed said. “We need to get into the museum, find the painting, and get it out.”

“First we need to figure out where it is.” Bea said. “Its been two years since it sold, it could be on display, or still in storage. Or maybe he’s had it cleaned.” She opened up the Umbratic’s website. “It says here they’re having a gala in two days, introducing an exhibition called, “Missing in Art” featuring works created by artist who are missing or deceased.”

“That would be a really big exhibition.” Ed said.

“Right?” Bea agreed. “Anyway, there’s a few of Aunt C’s paintings on display, including the lighthouse!”

“We need to get into that Gala!” Ed said.

“Wait,” Bea said, pausing. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“FANCY DRESSES?!” Bea asked, wide eyed.

“Fancy dresses,” both boys said in unison.

She squealed loudly.

“You want Pops to get that too?” Xavier asked.

“NO!” The two eldest agreed.

From there they had the whole thing figured out.

Scope out the museum two days before the gala, get a feel of the place, possibly security. They would join the gala; it was established that Pops could obtain the tickets. At the gala they would cause a ruckus, an important skill they’d honed as children. Xavier, who probably shouldn’t have knives, would find a way to remove the painting from it’s frame.

“What if there’s some type of sensor in the frame in case of theft?” Xavier asked.

“The alarms will already have been raised by this point, the only problem would be if you’re fast enough.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem.” He winked.

“Good, because this whole plan is hinging on your speed,” Bea said.

“No, the whole plan is hinging on whether or not that painting holds the information we need to find C and Mom.”


Procrastination slapped me right in the face and said, “just don’t do anything at all” and i listened. I managed to get it written and posted by midnight but added some things after, like the images. Once I got started I really enjoy the idea, so I might make any more I add to this short story part of premium. Let me know what ya think!


Thanks for Reading.-

-C

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