Eye of the Beholder

By Kevin King

Eye of the Beholder is a collection of fiction stories, under a thousand words each, in a variety of genres. Drama, RomCom, Spy Thriller, Dark Humor, Fantasy, Fairy Tale, Horror, and more. Stories based on random prompts - all by one author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: IngramSpark
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989782925

Book preview

Eye of the Beholder

A Flash Fiction Anthology

Kevin King

Copyright © 2024 by Kevin King

ISBN: 979-8-9897829-2-5

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1.Starflower

1. 1/3 Drama, Tragedy, Death of a Child

2.Ghost Town

2. 2/3 Drama, Tragedy, Death of a Child

3.A New Beginning

3. 3/3 Drama, War

4.The Rabbit Who Ate The Moon

4. Fairy Tale, Fable

5.The Pass

5. Drama

6.Afternoon Tea

6. Drama, Dark Comedy

7.The Clouds

7. Drama, Ghost Story

8.Theme Park

8. 1/2 Dark Comedy

9.Monster Mash

9. 2/2 Dark Comedy, Drama: Attempted child abduction

10.Deserted Island

10. 1/2 Fantasy

11.Sea Breeze

11. 2/2 Fantasy

12.Frederick's Fantastical Menagerie

12. Fantasy

13.The Cottage

13. Fantasy, Drama

14.Behind the Lines

14. Drama, War, Tragedy

15.Double Trouble

15. Horror, Creepy

16.The Cure

16. Fantasy, Drama

17.The Sweetest Treat

17. 1/5 RomCom ...?

18.Snowbound

18. 2/5 Fantasy, Fairy Tale, Drama

19.The Fairy Bargain

19. 3/5 Fantasy, Fairy Tale

20.Fairy Dungeon

20. 4/5 Fantasy, Fairy Tale

21.Midnight Promises

21. 5/5 Fantasy, Fairy Tale

22.Cabin Fever

22. Horror, Psychological

23.What Lies Beneath

23. Fantasy, Comedy

24.Clear Skies

24. Fantasy, Romance, Song of the Adoël character backstory

25.Rewind

25. Sci-Fi, Apocalyptic

26.The Rose

26. Drama: Assault, Abduction

27.The Contract

27. Drama

28.A Man's Word

28. Fairy Tale, Urban Fantasy

29.Memories Like Smoke

29. Drama, Romance

30.White Rose

30. Fantasy, Song of the Adoël Excerpt

31.Sacred Spaces

31. Drama, Fantasy

32.Forgotten Lyrics

32. RomCom, Mystery

33.Little Rain Cloud

33. Fantasy, Drama

34.Eye of the Beholder

34. Fantasy, Xanth Fanfic

35.Guardian City

35. Fantasy, Heartwarming

36.Virus

36. Horror, 150 words

37.Broken Doorknob

37. Drama, Mild Horror

38.Think of Me

38. Sci-Fi, Drama

39.Monster Gun

39. Thriller

40.Hedge Wizard

40. Fantasy

41.Bulldog

41. Heartwarming, Sweet Romance

42.Dream Collector

42. Fantasy

43.Hot and Cold

43. RomCom, Forced Proximity, Enemies to Lovers

44.Translation

44. Mystery, Drama

45.Unexpected Visitor

45. Drama, Mildly Creepy

46.The House's Secret

46. Fairy Tale

47.Washed Ashore

47. Drama, Pirates

48.Buried Treasure

48. Drama, Heist

49.Spirit Guide

49. Fairy Tale, Fantasy

50.Portal Painter

50. Fantasy, Mystery

51.Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

51. Sci-Fi, Romance, Meet-cute

52.Squash Soup

52. Comedy

53.Howls

53. Fairy Tale

54.The Test

54. Drama

55.Immortalized

55. Horror, Creepy

56.Machine Field

56. Sci-Fi, Drama

57.Thief

57. Drama

58.Traded

58. Fantasy, Drama

59.Fresh Winds

59. Drama

60.Grumplestone

60. Drama

61.Mountain Peak Wisdom

61. Drama

62.Spy Pie

62. Drama, Dystopia, Espionage

63.Too Sweet

63. Horror, Creepy, Creature

64.A Part of Him

64. Drama, Relationship, Tragedy

65.Imports

65. Espionage, Dystopian

Starflower

1/3 Drama, Tragedy, Death of a Child

The sound could be heard for miles. The sharp crack of gunshots echoed through the desert air—the carousing of drunken soldiers, celebrating the annihilation of my people. The glow on the horizon had dimmed to a dull red mirror of the flames that burned my heart. The fighting had ended hours ago, almost as soon as it began. What could be left of my hometown that would feed enough flame to produce even that much light? Maybe they were burning the bodies. Burning my family. 

My own small fire burned low, casting flickering light on the pile of delicate white flowers I’d collected through the night. I squeezed my eyes shut and drank deep from my canteen, trying to wash away the haunting images painted in my head by those sounds. My fingers trembled as I pressed the canteen down into the spring. I held it there, letting the warm water wash over my hand while warmer memories washed over my mind. The yearly gathering at this holy place, celebrating the source of life, refreshed my soul as its waters refreshed my body. The singing and dancing. The bright ribbons. The sweets made from cactus pulp and desert honey. The white star-flowers that could only be handled with gloves, kept a safe distance from the life-giving water, beautiful symbols of death to garnish the celebration of life. 

I screwed the lid down tight and set the canteen aside before pulling on heavy gloves. Scooping up a double fistful of flowers, I squeezed until the juices ran down my gloves and dripped into the bubbling water, mingled with tears. I pressed the deadly blossoms down into that life-source, into the beating heart that pumped life to my home. The water swirled, sucked into pipes toward the well at the center of my hometown, my heart. Soldiers, dehydrated from alcohol and the hot work of burning my life to the ground, would draw from that well. By morning, tainted water had quenched all sounds of celebration. My heart lay at rest. The silence could be heard for miles.

Ghost Town

2/3 Drama, Tragedy, Death of a Child

Afoggy haze filled the air, giving everything an ethereal feel. Roland tucked the thick wool blanket, knit by his wife during pregnancy, around four-year-old Aribeth.

Tell me a story, daddy.

Okay, Roland pursed his lips and pretended to consider it. How about…The Rabbit Who Ate The Moon?

No! Aribeth’s face scrunched with the intensity of a child who knows her mind. Her thick black curls framed a ghostly-pale face and strong, dark shining eyes. Tell me about the Bad Men, and how you saved us.

Roland changed his involuntary sob into a cough. His voice only trembled a little when he replied. Of course, Love. As you wish.

Aribeth grinned and snuggled in to the pile of blankets that formed her bed, insulating her from the cold stone floor of the hut.

A long, long time ago… Roland spoke in his dramatic storyteller voice. When you were but a wee girl, only just turned four…

Aribeth’s delighted giggle soothed Roland’s wounded heart like fine oil.

I spent a whole night out in the wilds, collecting Starflowers to use in the Festival the next day. But as I returned, I heard the sounds of fighting in the village. A whole army of Bad Men had come, men who hated us…

Why did they hate us, daddy? Aribeth interrupted with the same question she asked every time.

Roland gave her the same answer he always gave, the only answer he had, even though she would never understand. Truth be told, he didn’t understand it himself. Because, a long time ago, longer than we can even remember, our family and their family disagreed. They got very angry, and hurt each other. But we were all too proud to say we were sorry.

Okay. Aribeth’s thinking line appeared between her eyebrows as she processed that information. Her black hair turned gray in the thickening mist. What did you do?

I used the Starflowers, Roland turned his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes. I put them in the soldiers’ water, so they couldn’t fight anymore. So they couldn’t keep on hurting people. I made them go away.

And you saved us all! Aribeth’s eyes lit up.

Yes, baby. Roland gave up and let the tears roll down his cheeks. I saved us all. Even though we couldn’t live here anymore, everyone comes back for the Festival each year. Just for the day, we can all be together again.

And we all lived happily ever after. Aribeth’s hair shone soft white. The edges of her blankets unraveled into mist. Again! Tell it to me again!

I’m sorry, baby. Roland held a hand near her cheek, not quite touching her transparent skin. The sun is coming up, and you have to sleep now.

The first ray of sunlight touched the hut, dissolving it. A moment later, everything evaporated, leaving Roland crouched alone on a bare smoke-stained stone foundation where the hut used to be.

I’ll see you next year, sweet girl.

A New Beginning

3/3 Drama, War

Raphael turned his back to the burning homes, and the things his fellow soldiers were doing to the enemy.  Enemy? This is not the enemy they described. There are no monsters here. I haven’t seen a single gun among them. These are families.

He focused on his breathing, slow in and out, and consciously relaxed his face muscles. He’d volunteered for this. But once you signed up, they owned you. A soldier who expressed any pity, or offered any mercy, would be shot as a traitor.

A flapping of cloth caught Raphael’s attention. A woman, dressed in flowing night-robes, long black hair streaming in the wind, ran out into the dark of the night. Raphael’s rifle came up to his eye without a thought, his body moving as it had been trained. But his fingers froze. She looked like Larah, his young wife who waited for him back at camp. He squeezed his eyes closed, yet still he saw Larah’s tear-stained face. His eyes popped open again. Run.

The woman crested a ridge, then pitched forward as if struck from behind. She fell out of sight down the other side of the rise.

You hesitated, soldier! That one almost got away.

Raphael snapped to attention facing the angry-eyed officer. I was just making sure of my aim, sir. You got her a moment before I fired.

"We are not vacationing at your private hunting lodge, soldier! I am not your mother, to hold your hand and clean up after your incompetence! Go make sure that one is dead, then report back to your CO for latrine duty. Move!"

Raphael sprinted up the rise, torn between hoping she’d survived and hoping she hadn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to kill her, even if it cost him his own life. Her body lay at the bottom of the twenty-foot slope, her twisted robe caked with sand and blood. He scrambled down to her, pelting her with debris.

A thin cry drifted on the air. Something like a desert owl, soft and wavering. Raphael didn’t realize it was coming from under the woman’s body until he reached her. He rolled her onto her back to check for signs of life. No breath moved in her lungs, and her eyes stared into the world beyond. Yet, life stirred in her arms. A soft, angelic face peeked out from a bundle of rags. Tiny fingers reached out and wrapped around his heart.

Raphael crouched between two worlds. Behind him, the sounds of fighting transitioned into sounds of drunken celebration. A world of death and destruction, that commanded his obedience and the end of the sweet soul in front of him. If he walked away, they would kill him. Somewhere ahead, Larah waited for him in the follower’s camp, alone and mourning the recent loss of their infant daughter, whose life had ended before it began.

Raphael looked at the child, then he looked at his rifle. The stars overhead spun toward morning. The sound of celebration died down behind him. He looked at the child, alone and aching for a mother, then he looked up toward the camp where Larah waited, alone and aching for a child.

The instrument of death fell to the ground