Flash Fiction

The Blessing of the Gods

I have to say, I loved this week’s prompt from Kat with this week’s #SwiftFicFriday writing prompt. It took me a bit to come up with this, but once I got rolling, I kind of love this story. This one will likely get added to my list to come back and explore more at a later date when I don’t have the word count restriction. I would love to hear what you think as well. As always, please stop by to see other great responses to this prompt!

The Blessing of the Gods

Elara’s pace slowed as she approached the shrine, despite the pressure in her heart. It was Oshna’s temple, the God of fire and pain. He frightened her, as did his worshippers, for they relished daring the flames, the pain that brought, and forcing others to do the same. Now the compulsion brought her to the heart of His domain.

When she could no longer resist it, Elara made her way to the temple and mounted the steps. A tear slipped free as a fatalism filled her when she crossed the threshold.

A harsh, bodiless voice permeated the inner sanctuary. “You have arrived at last. Bow down. Submit to your God, my new priestess.”

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Those words burned as Elara fought the invisible hand’s attempts to force her into submission.

“No, you are not my God! I will not submit to you!” Her voice sounded small in the gilded hall.

Oshna laughed. “You have no choice, mortal, for I have decided it so.”

The strain grew until Elara thought it might crush her. Then a coolness came, taking the pressure away.

A gentler voice, the same timbre as Oshna’s but kinder, whispered. “No, brother, you may not take her like this.”

A flutter of hope entered Elara’s heart—Sohan, God of shade and shadows.

“How dare you come to my temple and interfere?”

“She is not yours, as she declared.”

“I will never give her up!” Oshna’s scream reverberated.

Sohan sighed. “You know this is not the way, but, since you will not yield, perhaps a contest. If you prevail, I withdraw, and if I win, you give up your claim at once.”

 “Who shall judge this game?

“Our Mother.”


Elara felt Oshna’s compulsion fade, yet she stood rooted in place, her mind whirling. The Gods were fighting over her.

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