It's sharp enough.

New flash fiction

I’m sharing a flash piece this week. I enjoy writing in different genres. It’s good for the creative soul but terrible for marketing.

I’m off to the annual Pen to Print awards tonight. Last year, my novel, The Poster, was announced as the runner-up in the ‘Book of the Year Awards.’ This year, I’m taking my daughter as a guest to say ‘hello’ to the team.

Thanks to Grace for buying me a coffee on Ko-fi. I enjoyed chatting to her about my writing process and her memoir.

Here’s the Flash story for you.

It’s sharp enough.

I run my thumb across the edge of the axe: it’s sharp enough. My arms ache from using it over the last two days. The Duke has sent scores of prisoners up the steps to the blood-stained block with only the smidgeon of an excuse for them being criminals.

But I’m not in a position to judge. I'm here to swing and chop and kick the severed head into the basket. A few eyes have blinked this morning as the head has rolled onto one side. The first time I thought I was enchanted. I slapped my leather mask to shake the spell out, but saw it again. I put the Holy Book in my waistcoat pocket as a precaution.

If the eyes are blinking, are the heads still thinking? How long do their minds work before they join their soul on the journey to Rigel?

The next victim is a young lass, her shoulders bare, the brown cloth dress untied around her waist. The rope and hemp belts are removed so the prisoners don’t hurt themselves. They’ve got to be in peak condition to lose their head. She stares at the slits in my mask. Her eyes are red but there are no tears. She’s cried out.

I should have sharpened my axe for this one. I don’t want her to suffer. She looks across the thinning crowd of a few dozen people compared to the throng two days ago. The appetite for blood has been sated as the city folk realised that watching friends, neighbours and relatives being executed was less fun than a hardened outlaw losing his head.

The girl kneels and places her long, pale neck on the block. I bend down and push her ponytail to one side. I see a blue star at the top of her spine. The blue star of Rigel: the sign the Holy Book mentions.

I look at the Duke. He’s picking a fingernail. The dozen guards are leaning on their swords.

I pick up my axe and swing it down towards the girl’s hands, slicing through the chain between her manacles. The metallic clank echoes across the courtyard, causing the Duke to look up from his manicure.

I feel the stares of the silent crowd upon me; they are unsure of what happened. So am I. I look down at the blue star between the girl’s trembling shoulders. It gives me strength. I smile and place my axe beside the block and put a hand under the girl’s elbow.

‘Come, lass.’

She looks up with wide eyes.

I point to the axe at my feet and shake my head. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes. A few people in the crowd cheer; it spreads and they applaud.

The Duke stands. ‘Seize them!’

The guards pick up their swords and push their way through the crowd.

The girl squeezes me tighter. ‘May Lotharr bless you,’ she mumbles into my leather jerkin.

I push her behind me and pick up my axe.

‘Let me see your face,’ she says.

The guards are jostling through the thickest part of the crowd at the foot of the stage. I pull off my black mask and drop it on the chopping block.

The girl reaches up and runs a thin finger along the scar from my left eyebrow to my bearded chin. The first time a woman has touched my face since the wound without an exchange of coin.

‘You have kind eyes,’ she says.

The stairs creak as the armoured guards climb.

‘We need to go, now!’ I roll my shoulders.

‘Where are we going?’ the lass says.

‘We’ll figure it out when we get there.’ I swing my axe at the neck of the first guard up the stairs.

---

If you liked that, then why not check out my latest novel, Stone and Water?

Available to buy here (USA here).