(Image courtesy of Five Minute Get-Away and Conde Nast Traveler)


Flash Fiction by Voni Harris 1-31-12

Why the emperor wanted the wooden platform walkway up the distant mountain was not hers to ask. It was just hers to build, along with the hundreds of other servants of the empire who dug and pounded and hammered in the heat.

She stopped to wipe the sweat off her brow and stood to stretch her back and take a drink of water from her leather pouch. The guards were busy making small-talk with each other, so she had a moment. Out of the recesses of her garment, she slipped a tiny leather pouch she had made herself under cover of night.

Her father was a traveling merchant, and on his latest visit home, he had told her of the talk he had heard on his travels of a God named Jesus. How the man had been wrongly convicted of rebellion, executed by Romans, then came back to life. Her father told her the stories had the ring of truth to them, and she had felt it, too, as he spoke the unfamiliar name…though how it could be she did not know. Father told her that this Jesus was said to be God himself. That He was said to be Love itself. That He was said to answer prayers.

And that was what was on the paper she’d placed in the tiny leather pouch.

She glanced over her shoulder, and the guards were still talking. She stooped over, placed the next board into place and secreted her leather pouch underneath.

Would this Jesus-God tell her father that she’d been stolen away by the emperor’s troops, maybe in a dream? Or would her written prayer perhaps be found somehow, and lead her mother to her?

One of the guards glanced her way with a leer. Would this Jesus-God protect her? She quickly turned back to hammer the board into place over the prayer pouch.

She had no choice but to hope. But somehow it was enough.

The End.



This blog was inspired by the Flash Fiction prompt posted by http://lsengler.com/