The tent fluttered in the wind that carried the banter and wood-smoke of marching men at rest. Inside a decision was made.
'You think the lash has freed his tongue? He lies to save his kin', said admiral Datus.
Lord Artaphernes, looked over and raised his hand for silence, 'I have studied Ktesia words, beneath the chaff of pain I sense a grain of truth. Burn him'
From Marathon, Miltiades saw the smoke and wept. Now his people had a chance. The death showed as agreed that no Calvary rested by the river.
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Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.
This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.