Micro Fiction: Succession

So now that I am no longer judging cracked flash, I get to enter again. That means a fresh wave of stories posted here, since in order to enter my favorite, prize-less weekly contest, I make my stories “published” by posting them in the comments section that anyone can see, which means no lit mag will publish them, so you, my readers, get to enjoy them for free!

Succession
By Sara Codair

“I don’t want to be worshiped–I want to terrify!” Prince Corvinstin flipped the table, spilling wine, gravy and meat on his counselors.

“That is not wise.” Dr. Banfiend wiped dripping gravy off of his robe. “Fear breeds rebellion. Worshipers are less likely to start an uprising.

Prince Corvinstin threw his knife across the table. Fortunately for Dr. Banfiend, the prince had terrible aim.

“I’ve been serving your family for seventy years, young Dale, and I will not tolerate your violence.”

“Yes,” laughed Prince Corvinstin. “You’ve been serving, as you will continue to do. Now tell me, how can I scare the foul farmers into submission?”

The counselors exchange looks, nodding at Dr. Banfiend. “Your great-grandfather also preferred fear. He had a mechanical dragon that he would fly over the villages, torching the ones those that refused to pay taxes.

Prince Corvinstin grinned. “That sounds horrifically delightful. Show me this dragon.”

“As you wish.” Banfiend lead the young prince to the castle’s deepest dungeon.

“It is through there,” he said pointing to a massive black door.

Prince Corvinstin took out his master key and opened it. Dr. Banfiend shoved him in and slammed the door shut behind him. He locked it, then leaned his back against the cold steel. He listened to heavy foot steps, the prince wailing in disbelief then screaming like a little girl, and finally, the sizzling of burning flesh.

When the door became too hot, Dr. Banfiend climbed back up stairs. He was exhausted when he got back to the dining room, but pleased that his brethren had reset the table, replaced the fallen food and refilled the wine decanters.

“Now that one was a disappointment.” He sat down and poured himself a glass of wine. “Does anyone know where his little brother was last seen?”

###

If you enjoy my fiction, consider supporting me and other writers by buying one of the anthologies I am going to be published in. The first one, 100 Voices, can be pre-ordered  at bit.ly/100VoicesV1. Don’t forget to use the coupon code 100V86 save 10% and give me credit for the sale. Thank you!

Also – check out the story I just had published on The Flash Fiction Press: http://www.theflashfictionpress.org/2016/08/25/carpenter-demon-hunter-father/

©2016 Sara Codair

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