Flash Fiction

The lady with snakes for hair stepped out of history. The snakes withered and died leaving her with snakeskin hair against her alabaster skin. People turned and stared as she glided past. Initially she was confused by the new and unwanted attention. But, slowly she adjusted, casting beatific glances at mouth wide strangers. Freed from the restraints of history she still puzzled at the mobility of those around her. She noticed the intense noise and clamour, the hard surface against her bare delicate feet. She felt an icy breeze cut through diaphanous silken garments.

A dishevelled ranting stranger in a dark voluminous outfit approached her, clearly wanting something. As he neared he tripped and fell sprawling at her feet. He turned his face towards her, drool and vomit escaping his mouth slowly. She kicked at him viciously, a bone in her foot cracked. She winced in pain. She had never felt pain before, she cried out. Her cry terrified the passers by and they cowered, grasping at their ears. The fallen kicked stranger bled from his ears and mumbled inconsequentially.

As the pain in her foot slowly subsided she assessed her new situation. History, it appeared, was gone to her now. Legend was floating away down the rivers of time. She would inhale the breath of her new being and dominate the cowering peoples that would now be hers.