Alex.J.Cobalt

“It was all so good,” Tristan sighed, into his drink “before you lot got involved.”

The bodies didn’t talk back. They never talked back.

“You know,” he said, reaching over the bar and pulling a bottle from under the shelf, “I really wish that time magic was a thing. That I could go back to being little old Tristan De Beur, in his farmhouse, with his wife.”

The bartender stared at him in mute silence. They tended to do that when Tristan killed people.

“I mean,” Tristan said, pouring himself a glass, “does anyone here know time magic?”

He swung around to the faces of horrified onlookers.

“Or you?” Tristan said to the two bodies on the floor, “you got anything to say?”

The bodies stared up him, bloodied and mute.

“Silence, as always,” Tristan sighed, “at least you can go and speak to your precious Gods now. See if they really care about my wife being a witch.”

He spat at the bodies, turning back to the bar and knocking back his drink in one. They would come for him, the Guards would have been notified by now. Then he’d escape, and go onto the next town, to find the next two in the gang who had set his house on fire.

And on. And on.

Until they were all dead.

“You mind?” Tristan asked, as he poured himself another drink.

Gods, he wished he knew time magic. Then, perhaps, he could bring Elsemerda back to life.

But until then, he would just have to settle for revenge.

Prompt from #1wordpromptchallenge on Instagram.

• Sundown Sky
  “Reminds you of home, doesn’t it?” Canath remarked, kicking their legs under them. In front of them, the great City of Naithe burned into smolders, … More Sundown Sky
• Remember (but I can’t)
  “Remember when we said we’d first come here?” Sanra shouted in her mother’s ear over the roar of the waterfall in front of them. One … More Remember (but I can’t)
• Not anywhere
  Dead Dead. Not alive. Not here. Not anywhere that I can perceive. Just. Not here. What does that mean for life, when death is so … More Not anywhere
• Muffled (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)
  Tamsin hoped the bathroom door muffled her tears. That was the curse of being soft, of being emotional, her parents said. The curse of crying … More Muffled (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)
• Whisper (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)
  Sometimes I think I can hear you in whispers. In the wind through the trees or the rustle of grass. In the crumple of paper … More Whisper (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)
• Gentle (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)
  The sea is gentle today, a calm surf gently lapping the shore of the stony beach under your feet. You can feel the air hint … More Gentle (Stories on a Theme – “Soft”)