Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
EVASION OF PRIVACY
The wind howled and whistled over the hammering rain as three surviving highwaymen of a gang of five, charged towards a small wooden structure in the middle of the woods with a soaked roof glistening in the moonlight. They barged in without knocking or calling to anyone who might be inside. They slammed the door shut and all three of them leaned against it, puffing with exhaustion.
“I thought they were a myth,” one of them desperately gasped, before pushing away from the door and grabbing a nearby lantern. He looked back to their leader who shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Don’t light that. She’ll see us.”
“You don’t think she’ll already suspect we’re hiding in the only cabin for miles?”
“More than suspect, if its lit.”
“Aye,” he conceded, putting the lantern back down.
“There’s hardly space in here to fight,” the leader said, gesturing the man next to him over to the window while he kept his own back against the door.
The other looked about in the dark and tripped on a raised mat, hitting the floor. Beyond the slop of his soaked cloak, his thud against the wooden boards yielded three sounds of interest; an echo beneath, the jostling of a trapdoor, and the rattling of iron. Pushing aside the frayed matt, he felt about until his fingers found a metal ring in a recess.
Before he could announce his discovery, the window smashed. A burst of wind and rain rushed in as the man by the window was snatched out into the night.
“She’s here,” the leader of the now two-man gang yelled.
“Quick,” his only remaining subordinate offered, lifting the trap door.
The leader pulled it shut behind them, muffling the sound of the elements breaching the cabin above. They descended the stairs into a crimson-lit cave of a basement. A selection of small chests surrounded the edges while an odd, glazed-looking candle of both red wax and frank red flame sat on a small table near the concerning centerpiece; an open coffin.
With nowhere else to venture, they made their way to it.
“Full of dirt,” the bandit leader said, scooping a handful of the dried earth bed within.
“Seems as though anywhere but here would have been the best place to run,” the other brigand said.
The floor above them creaked, turning their gazes upwards.
A cunning thought occurred.
“Let’s rush her,” the subordinate said. “It’s our only chance.”
“Together,” the leader agreed.
They stormed up the stairs, through the trap door, into the cabin where the creature of the night was poised, ready to address their doomed assault. Without hesitation, they let out a battle cry before charging ahead, storming past her and out the front door, into the woods instead.
As they ran through the rain, they looked at each other, surprised, confused, and betrayed. Each intending the other as bait. The leader squinted angrily.
“What?” the insubordinate subordinate puffed. “At least you don’t have to feel guilty now.”
Barend Nieuwstraten III grew up and lives in Sydney, Australia, where he was born to Dutch and Indian immigrants. He has worked in film, short film, television, music, and online comics. He is now primarily working on a collection of stories set within a high fantasy world, a science fiction alternate future, as well as a steampunk storyverse, often dipping his toes in horror in the process. With over twenty short stories published in anthologies, he continues to work on short stories, stand-alone novels, and an epic series.
A discovery writer not knowing what will happen when he begins typing, he endeavours to drag his readers on the same unknown journey through the fog of his subconscious.
https://www.facebook.com/Barend3Author
https://twitter.com/Barend3Author
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20713313.Barend_Nieuwstraten_III
https://barend3.blogspot.com
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 