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·120 words·1 min
Flash Fiction Deadlines For Writers

The warrior rolled to a standing position, and snapped her arms straight. Bloody droplets slid off her blades, splattering against the ground like a spring rain of death. Looking over her shoulder, the smell of leather armor, made fragrant by the heat of exertion, filled her with exhilaration.

“Impressive,” the dark wizard muttered.

Turning, the warrior circled her curved blades into a traditional battle pose. Pitching her voice so the wizard would have no misunderstandings, she said, “Do you have any more pimped out beasts, or are you ready to face me directly?”

Purple mists surrounded the wizard and a new horde of creatures poured forth.

With a battle cry that shook the trees, the warrior launched forward, blades spinning.