28 Days to Master Flash Fiction – Day 3

What will make the audience want to read on? We are all hard wired for survival, love and hunger. These are easy topics to relate to, and therefore make it easier for the reader to quickly understand what is going on and to empathise with the main character. Here’s my attempt at flash on this third day.


If Sebir was ever going to eat, he would have to learn how to throw that spear properly. Right now, his throws fall short, and if they strike, his spear is likely to get tangled in the beasts wooly fur. That won’t work.


Sebir’s mouth waters as he thinks of last week’s roast. Then he curses as he watches to goat scale the steep rockface, with such grace and effort that he is both envious and in awe. He missed again, and because he missed, he won’t eat. Worse, his daughter will have to go without food, again.


Sebir screams at the goat scaling the steep rockface, then sits down and covers his face with his hands. 


Damn that fish, Sebir thinks as he pulls his spear from the river once again. This is the second spear he has snapped trying to skewer that fat fish. It swims around his feet again, nipping at the hair on his leg. He kicks. It darts off, quick for its size.


Cold water sprays Sebir’s legs from where his spear pierces the stream. He screams as the fat fish escapes and another spear breaks on the rocky bed. The riverfae oppose him. He tosses the spear into the water, and watches it sink, the snapped tip lilting as it is pulled under and away. 

By their tent, Naisha giggles, as she runs around the fire, chased by her mother, his wife, Iuba. 

Iuba looks up at him, and he waves, hoping that the distance masks his red cheeks. What kind of a man is he, not able to provide food for his family. She waves back, too caught up in the game to notice his plight.

Good. He’d hate to prove her father right. That man never liked him. Sebir fetches his last spear from the riverbank, and moves downstream, bit out of sight, before wading back in. 

 Something splashes in the water, and a large fish jumps from the river, twists in the air, before diving snout first into the water, only to repeat the feat. It moves fast, towards him. 

Sebir focuses, spear raised overhead like a heron’s beak, and holds his breath. There! It jumps again, a crown of water appearing over its head, before disappearing again beneath the surface. 

It is close now.

He holds his breath.

Instead of a fish, water shoots straight up in a continuous stream, like waterfall going to wrogn way, and as it rains down on him, a face appears and speaks to him.

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