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The Final Blow

·150 words·1 min
Flash Fiction Deadlines For Writers

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“It better be. We only have an hour before night falls.”

Veronica pushed open the crypt’s stone door. Crossing the threshold a deep darkness enveloped them. It was more than just a lack of light. Looking behind them, the orange glow of the setting sun was desaturated, making it shimmer like moon light.

The coffin rested atop a stone outcropping. All around it were the shapes of sleeping vampires.

Groaning, James raised the heavy lid. Inside, eyes open, fangs protruding from ruby red lips, was the Sire. Destroy this vampire, and all the rest would fall.

Taking a wooden stake from James’ backpack, Veronica plunged it into the Sire’s chest. Black smoke erupted around them like a fire pit had been upended, and then was gone. Only piles of grey ash remained.

With exhausted sighs of relief, they simultaneously whispered, “It’s over.”