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creative writing, fiction, flash fiction, good short stories, how to write a short story, K Patrick Moody, Kim P Moody, writer's block, writing, writing help, writing ideas, writing prompts
A last ditch entry to InMon, I hope I’m not too late. : Covered with words:
“It is covered with words, but these words mean nothing to me.”
He spread the scroll gently on the table, the leather brittle with age. His finger traced the line of characters from right to left.
“What does it say? What does it mean?”
“I wish I knew. It’s not Hebrew, but it is similar. I think it may be Aramaic.”
The boy reached out to touch it.
“No!” he caught his wrist and snatched his hand away from the relic. “This is important. It is very … very old.”
The boy looked hurt, but said nothing. His father’s face was suddenly different. His warm, kindly eyes were now cold. There was an icy fire burning in them.
“You must not mention this old piece of scrap to anyone …”
“Ok, dad.”
“No-one! Do you hear?” His face contorted and his eyes flared in the boy’s face.
He re-rolled the scroll and placed it carefully into the pouch, and the pouch into his rucksack.
He turned and left the chamber, the boy scrabbling to keep up.
“These are holy words, they will make me rich.”
He spread the scroll gently on the table, the leather brittle with age. His finger traced the line of characters from right to left.
“What does it say? What does it mean?”
“I wish I knew. It’s not Hebrew, but it is similar. I think it may be Aramaic.”
The boy reached out to touch it.
“No!” he caught his wrist and snatched his hand away from the relic. “This is important. It is very … very old.”
The boy looked hurt, but said nothing. His father’s face was suddenly different. His warm, kindly eyes were now cold. There was an icy fire burning in them.
“You must not mention this old piece of scrap to anyone …”
“Ok, dad.”
“No-one! Do you hear?” His face contorted and his eyes flared in the boy’s face.
He re-rolled the scroll and placed it carefully into the pouch, and the pouch into his rucksack.
He turned and left the chamber, the boy scrabbling to keep up.
“These are holy words, they will make me rich.”
____________________________________
(c) 2012, K Patrick Moody
Flash fiction inspired by Inspiration Monday – Covered with words
Scratchypen's Blog 
Very Indiana Jones-y, but with a harsher edge. It makes me wonder how he obtained the scrap and what adventure is next. Nicely done.
Woah, nice take on the prompt! I like the archaeology angle. Makes me think of the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibition coming to Fort Worth in July! (in case you live anywhere near Texas : )
Thanks for the comment … hmm Fort Worth, eh? Now that’s gotta be over 5000 miles away …
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Not too late! 🙂 Oh well done!! HOLY WORDS THAT MAKE ME RICH :O
Great piece. I love the way you’ve expressed the change in his mood.
A dark Indiana Jones indeed. An old piece of scrap, holy words that will make him rich… the icy fire in his eyes is what scares me the most. It sounds like something his son has never seen before, ever. It makes me wonder how far this father has already gone to follow his greed.
Thanks for taking the time to comment, Capt! Appreciated.