16/11/2022 - The Things We Do In The Name Of Love
Reading time: 3 min
Photo Courtesy of Alessandro Laurucci
I knew I had to destroy her if I wanted to have a shot at my share of the inheritance, but when grandpa died, I realised it was too late.
Danika, a Croatian witch, a shameless gold-digger, silky skin covered in tattoos and thighs so strong she could crack a coconut squeezing it between her knees—was my age, but much savvier than myself.
I went to her place after the funeral, after she swallowed my future, and I was in awe to see she lived in a campervan.
Weeds were outgrowing the rusty garden furniture outside, and a shady-looking couple nodded towards the forest when I asked them where I could find Danika.
I walked through the trees for a few minutes before I stumbled upon a circular opening, almost artificial, and at the centre of it a small, ancient tomb. Danika was sitting on it, and when she saw me, she smiled.
I accused her of robbing me of what was mine in the most articulate way I was able to, while the smell of grass and musk grew stronger in my nostrils. It was the smell of rain, and before I recognised it, it poured down on our heads. Danika grabbed my hand and dragged me back to her campervan.
She offered me towel and dry clothes, while she undressed with her door open.
“This changes nothing,” I said. “I want my money back.”
“I don’t have your money,” she replied, getting into a t-shirt without a bra.
I swallowed. “What?”
“I gave it away, to a charity,” she said. “Do you know the Blue Flowers?”
“That’s my charity,” I managed to stutter.
“Well, happy days then. Instead of your share, they’re going to get everything the old man had to offer.”
We sat and talked. She explained to me how evil my parents and uncles were, what they wanted to do with the money, and that she had to do something, she couldn’t let them pollute the world without a fight. And the only weapon she had, was her beauty.
And then, we kissed.
She asked me if I was a virgin, if I’d ever been in love, and when I shook my head, she led me out of the van, in the rain again, between the trees to the ancient tomb.
“I’ve done this so many times,” she said. “You surely wonder, why don’t I save something for myself? Why don’t I move somewhere nicer? Well, I can’t leave my daughter.”
I looked at the tomb, it was nothing more than a rock on the ground, it could have been two thousand years old. “That’s a Roman tomb,” I said.
“Yes. I’ve been doing this for 2326 years. Rich men keep killing children, and I can’t let them do it. Will you help me?”
I looked into her eyes, and suddenly I saw the sadness and the wisdom coming from millennia of suffering.
“Yes,” I said, before I realised my palms had been slashed open and I was already bleeding on the tomb.
About this story
Prompt:
ELEMENT ONE: Somewhere You’ve Never (Rarely) Gone Before
Sometimes it’s easy to get stuck doing the same thing again and again, and we here at Hydra HQ feed off, er, encourage growth. Today’s challenge is to write in a fiction genre you’ve never written before. Or at least one that you rarely write in. We want to see you stretch and reach new heights as writers, or at the very least, appreciate the fresh torture.
OPTIONAL ELEMENT: Put Your Thang Down Flip It And Reverse It
Every genre has its conventions. Those conventions are oftentimes the very foundation of the genre itself, but as we all know, bread gets stale. For an additional challenge, subvert a popular trope within your chosen genre.
My genre: Romance.
Trope: enemies to lovers.
From the official page of FFM 2022.
Notes on the challenge
Each and every story published here has been written, reviewed, polished and published in less than 90 minutes. Which means you’re going to find spelling mistakes, ugly sentences and weird structures. I still hope you’ll enjoy them!
