This week instead of a Visual Fiction piece, I have done a 150-word flash fiction story for Alastair’s Photo Fiction challenge.
Why have you forsaken us? I thought.
Across the valley, the ghoul army was massing, a roiling corruption spreading along the once-pristine slopes of the hills.
I summoned Huzon, the prophet. “What is the word from the Most High?”
“It has not changed,” he replied. “Stay firm, and have faith. This is not your fight.”
The swarm crossed the small stream and began scaling our side of the valley. Arrows whined around us. I began to pace but Huzon merely held up his hand.
The first ghoul had almost reached the base of our walls when the clouds split and a shaft of light shot from the heavens. The sunlight spread, enveloping the forces below us. There were screams as many fell and died and the rest fled back to their underground lairs.
“The word of the Most High,” Huzon said. “My timing is perfect; I will never forsake you.”