Thud. Thud. Thud.
Thousands of marching feet shook the earth.
Crick. Crack. Creak.
Thousands of decaying bones rattled across the ground.
The army was on the move.
Cries of alarm could be heard throughout villages and towns as the army slowly trudged by. But the people had no need to fear. This army of the dead wasn’t here for them.
They were marching to the previously determined field of battle. It was the end of yet another millennium, which marked the eve of the next Balancing between the two largest kingdoms: the Kingdom of Bien and the Kingdom of Mal.
It was a rivalry as old as earth itself, created unwittingly by the same gods who created life. When the gods saw the ancient powers they had unleashed and the struggles the said powers caused, they came together and decided that every 1,000 years the two sides were to face off. This great battle came to be known as the Balancing.
The Kingdom of Mal, which had lost nearly every Balancing since the beginning of the world, had called upon their greatest necromancer for help. He raised the bodies of everyone who had ever fought in a Balancing on the side of Mal. They made up the army of dead that spread dread as it marched sullenly across the plains.
As they marched, clouds gathered overhead. The sky slowly darkened. Then it happened. Little white snowflakes came falling from above. They swirled and twirled in the light wind that had begun to blow.
Most of the skeletons didn’t pay any attention to the snow, they just kept marching. But one skeleton, a man whose name had long been forgotten, paused on his way. There was something special in the little flakes that floated down from the sky. He couldn’t quite remember what it was.
All he knew was that he had to stick out his tongue. It was the thought that made the most sense, so he went for it. With closed eyes and a tipped back head, he stuck out his tongue to catch the flakes.
They landed gently and evaporated instantly. Each touch reminded him of something that his dead brain had forgotten. Humanity. The little white snowflakes reminded him what it felt like to be alive. He soaked in the feeling, a sense of longing in his no longer beating heart.
Then, as quickly as the snow had come, it left. The man’s skeleton was jostled by the army that couldn’t stop marching. He fell back into step, heading toward the battlefield. As he walked on, the feeling of humanity that had entered his bones evaporated, just like the snowflakes on his tongue.
Happy Flash Fiction Friday! I felt the pull towards Substack and posting my writing again yesterday, and I have a little time on my hands for the next month, so here we are. Today’s story comes from my old Instagram archives and was originally posted Feb. 24, 2020, as an art-based story. I’m not sure if I can post the original art here or not, but go check out Stefan Koidl on ArtStation if you want some great horror inspiration and see if you can find which picture this story is based on.
As always, leave a comment if you enjoyed this story and also let me know what you’ve been up to!
It's great to see some writing from you again!