Flash Fiction Friday (44)

Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.

The Image This Week:

(I don't know who the artist of the picture is.)

Story by:  Melissa

The maiden looked down at the crane joining her at the river bed, as she brushed the spider webs of the tunnels from her golden gown, not as many this trip, which shows how many trips she's made through those forgotten castle passages.

He should be here.  The maiden looked across the river wondering if he was hiding there, thinking she had trackers following her, or if it wasn't her coming through the wood line.  But she'd been standing here for a while, he would have given up his hiding spot by now.  So she stood staring at the peaceful river.  She felt like a child again, running in hiding from her father, a high statesman, to see some wretch of a boy.  Her father would be so disappointed in her.  This thing with this boy was still such a new thing.  What was the attraction to him?  Someone for sport, possibly for love?  He was definitely not one of those dreaded men so full of themselves and the position her father held in the courts.

She heaved a heavy sigh and turned to leave.  He must be done with her, best to learn now.  The crane clicked and clicked again, then a long bellow to the sky, caused her to turn.  The sky turned from bright day, to black as night.  Dark thick clouds rolled in with speed of her turning her head.  The crane bellows again to the sky, then looked to her with one eye, clicking again.

Stunned, the maiden nodded, "Yes, I'm going back."

The stories of the witch had been circulating again, but no one had seen proof.  Until now.  This was her sigh.

The maiden turned to the woods, lifted her skirts ready to run, and stopped with one step.  He walked from the brush in front of her, his dark hair blowing across his face as the wind picked up.  The maiden relaxed some, knowing she was safe with him near.  She walked to him, and he to her, not stopping until she was safe in his arms.

His hands glided up her back, over her bare shoulders to the top of her head.  Then the sound of an egg cracking over her head.  She looked up to her flings eyes.  His eyes turned from brown, to the heavy black of the clouds above.

"Oh no,"  the maiden whispered.

"Oh yes," he answered with a smile.

Black sticky syrupy liquid was the last she saw, dripping down over her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, the crane that created her at the river side, was cuddled up beside her, and at eye level.  The maiden opened her beck to say, Hello little friend, when all she heard was clicks, and clicks again.  She turned her narrow head and bellowed to the dark sky, as the warlock chuckled from the trees behind her.