Wednesday 10 July 2019

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 115

This week's prompt is created by Kukubirdwei on Deviant ArtIt's a drawing of The Ifrit, a creature with origins in the Quran of Islamic religion, and Middle Eastern Mythology. It is said that they were among the races of Djinni created by Allah from smokeless fire. 

This one came ready formed in my head, making it an easy one to write. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


I couldn’t breathe; the smoke was thick and arid, the temperature had risen so high I was no longer sweating; the flames were licking all around me, any second I was sure I would combust. Then the flames parted and I saw movement, something coming towards me, something big, something aflame.

I sat up in bed clutching my chest, heaving great gulps of air. He was no longer coming. He was here. He’d found me.

I scrabbled out of bed, and grabbed what clothes I could, my mind racing. Could I outrun him? Where could I go and how much longer could I keep doing this? Everyone knew that sooner or later you had to face him; the Djinn was not to be trifled with, and I had trifled. I had been running for more than a century.

He tracked me by my fires. I had to reduce how often I was making them, but it was hard, they were my lifeblood. I hopped down the stairs of the apartment block, putting my shoes on as I went. Getting out of the city wouldn’t be enough I had to get out of the country.

I ran down the block, trying to flag a taxi. I had a holdall in a locker at the airport with everything in it. I had learnt to be prepared. Last time I wasn’t, and it had cost me my face. I got a taste of what my victims experienced. It should have made me more contrite, but it didn’t, it made me more liberal, taking less care, increasing the amount of victims.

The taxi driver dropped me off at the airport; I rushed to the lockers and fumbled my bag out. I walked quickly to one of the ticket desks, but it was too late: alarm bells rang out in the main foyer, people started running and screaming in hysterics. Smoke started to fill the hall. I couldn’t resist a smile, he had class.

I skirted around the foyer, keeping away from the worst of the smoke, but trying to catch a glimpse of the flames, because there were sure to be them, he needed them to make his entrance. I continued round, finding another exit, but as I approached people were running from that direction too.
This time I could see a flicker of orange reflected in the chrome of the desks lining that direction. It was increasing, as was the heat. I intended to back up, but I was always drawn to the spectacle; the dance of the flames as they bobbed up and down, as they caressed the surface and consumed everything they touched. He had me there; I was mesmerised. Fire had always been my first love, it had taken over everything: my home, my parents, anyone that came near me. I was its servant, it was my master.

And he was there. I could see his deep red eyes, encircled by a whipping circle of fire that spun to form his features and his torso. I had expected to feel dread, but instead I felt excitement. He was glorious, ablaze as he was; he was everything I wanted to be.

I felt nothing as he swept me up in his arms and took me in his embrace. This was a penance I would gladly serve.


  1. Terry Brewer, @Stories2121, Adonis

    He lay on the side of the road. Going in and out of consciousness. In and out of sanity. It was dark and he hit the turn too fast. His Harley’s rear wheel spun out. He was thrown clear. He wore no helmet and may have hit his head. But there was no blood. The nausea was upon him and he turned and retched to his right side, draping the right arm of his leather jacket in his puke.

    It was a mountain road. He lay on a slight hill, the road having been cut through the woods. His feet were lower than his head and he thought he should turn to prevent his blood from flowing away from his head. He knew enough to do that. He slowly rotated, his head now facing the upside-down woods. Would anyone find him? Before he tired of fighting and slipped away. But he was tiring, starting to slip away. In and out of consciousness.

    He heard a movement. He rolled so he could see. In the woods. They were coming for him. There was light. They would get to him in time. At first, the light was too bright but it cooled to a fiery orange. A man. No. A God. An Adonis. Coming for him. Perfectly sculpted. A God.

    As He was about to touch him, to take him, he heard shouting. “Over here.” The orange overwhelmed by the flash of red and blue lights. His Adonis vanished.

    He felt himself manhandled, an oxygen mask placed over his mouth as he was rolled onto a stretcher. A shot of morphine put into his veins. He was asked questions and he tried to answer but he could not speak. As he was carried to the ambulance, he looked to the woods. But there was nothing, no one.

    He was in the hospital for two weeks. Three surgeries. He’d always walk with a limp, but he was lucky to be walking. His wife and his parents visited every day and they wheeled him out when he was discharged. They arranged for the guest room in the house until he was fully mobile. His dear, sweet wife took care of him. Yet he dreamt of his Adonis. Only of his Adonis. She did not deserve it. He did not deserve her.

    When he was able, he went out alone at nights. Searching for his Adonis. His Adonis would save him.

    1. A great take on the fiery creature, well done, Terry.

    2. Interesting take indeed. Intriguing. Thanks for joining.

  2. I love the idea of being tracked and followed through time buy the Djinn in yours. Very nicely done. Love that hot and smoky start too.

    1. Thanks! It was the first bit that came to me, the rest unfolded as I wrote.

    2. Sometimes, you only see one little piece to begin with don't you.

    3. I only need the opening line in my head. Sometimes I have an idea of the whole story. This one I had the opening and first part.

  3. OKay I finally found my tale. Here is Talia and the Jinn hope you like it.

    1. Really works. Fantastic humour in it. I want to see him burn their pants off.

    2. Thank you. Maybe next time!

  4. Mr. Rattler
    By: David Lunn Milburn

    What you’re about to hear is the truth. Of course, this coming from a professional stand-up comedian who’s lived in Las Vegas for the last thirty years, so if you choose to take my story with a grain of salt, I won’t hold it against you. Not too long ago, I met the Devil. Yessiree, Mephistopheles himself. Introduced himself out in the desert one night. I was sitting, back against a cactus, after my last shift at the dead-end casino on the edge of town, asking myself if it was time to shimmy up to the nearest rattlesnake and end my career on a high note. I had been asking this question for some time now. I always woke up in my own bed but I figured Mr. Rattler would find me in his own time.

    This particular night was colder than usual. I could feel it sifting through my bones. The notion of freezing to death in the middle of a desert was not part of my grand plan so I started levering myself off the sand when the air cracked like a jumbo jet had just flown over and there he was. Not every day a fiery demon appears so my comedic instincts kicked in.

    “Hi there, say, is that a glow stick in your pants, or are you just glad to see me?”

    Nothing. Nada. The drunks who frequent the joint I work in would have given me more of a reaction. This guy didn’t even heckle me, he simply hovered a few inches off the ground with his steely eyes fixed on me. Or my soul, wasn’t sure which. He was close enough, I couldn’t feel the cold anymore but the sweat which was now pouring down the back of my shirt was a worry.

    He eventually did talk. He hadn’t come for me, nothing so quaint. He actually congratulated me for pulling in so many losers and keeping them in one place where he could pick and choose his next tenants in a more relaxed manner. He didn’t need to see me yet, maybe not for a few years as long as I kept up the good work. It’s funny, I never thought of the Devil being a lazy sod but there you are.

    I’ve not seen him since so I presume he’s happy with my act. I wish I could say the same for the crew that sits out in front of me every night.


    Better late than never I guess? I wikipedia'd Ifrits and I was really taken by the idea that they're drawn to murder victims?

    1. Perfect, I love it. That last line. So good.

      Here's a clickable link as others have to read this: The Ifrit

    2. And you are not late, you have a whole week to write for all my challenges - and even if you spot an old one and still want to write for it, go for it. Not time limits.

  6. Decided to try something silly, and off the wall. The result? Protecting The Universe

    1. Love it! You knew I would. Perfect. So good.