More Flash Fiction

The Battle (#work)

Remaining in control of her land required bloodshed, but what other choice did she have? Admit defeat? She would lose the respect of the neighboring lands if she didn't fight the enemy, or die trying. They already judged her for waiting too long, until the demons were practically knocking on her door.

She wasn't lazy per se, but she dreaded the fight. The thought of sweat, tears, and the blood I already mentioned made her avoid sending a reconnaissance mission to see just where the monsters were, and what they were up to at her borders, what fortifications they were erecting.

And kill she would, hack and chop them to death until they lay in piles at her feet, mauled and defeated. She couldn't in good faith stop until their troops were decimated due to the judginess of neighboring lands as I previously said. And she didn't like them either. No sense in letting even one or two of their ugly mugs poke into her window and say 'hello' during her morning cup of Joe. No, the enemy needed elimination.

They had met on the battlefield many times before, too many times. Theirs was a race of breeders and haters and invaders. They would never cease their crusade. Those too young to fight took refuge underground, waiting to wage their attack in future years. These were foe she would fight until she was old and gray. She was already getting up there in age and a bit gray, but she would undoubtedly keep fighting even when she was a grandmother.

She was all too familiar with their weapons, grizzly spiking chains and spears. She shuddered thinking of them as she donned her own armor. She knew it wasn't thick enough. They would penetrate her defenses. She chose a heavy metal weapon of her own with which to kill.

Mid morning, the battle commenced. She tried to charge deep into their ranks to hack down their largest strongest soldier first, but she couldn't penetrate their outer defenses and a ground skirmish commenced. Her large weapon was no match for the outer forces, though they were quick and lithe, often dodging her deadly blows the first few times. She waded through the dead, her eye on the stronghold.

There were too many of them. She would never win this. Her scratched and bloody arms shook with exhaustion. Sweat dripped down her forehead. If only she had reinforcements, but her people were lazy. They looked to her, their leader, to do their dirty work while they flopped around on the sofa eating popcorn and drinking beer. For a moment she resented them, but even if she tossed her residents out of her land, she would still have to face this enemy.

She doubled her efforts.

After hours she stood in triumph. Well, there were one or two still lurking, but the neighbors wouldn't notice. Her husband appeared rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Thanks for tackling the yard work, honey. Those brambles were out of control."