Eon pulls at the thread and the universe alters.  Time skips ahead in a blink of an eye.  All living things who bear witness to the shift fail notice that for a brief moment — time speeds up.  A portion of their lives fast-forwarded.   Eon is bored with this new era and pulls at the thread again.  Time once more progresses, landing on another uneventful period.  No war, no famine, no disasters.  The entirety of the Universe is at peace, all civilizations and realms are in harmony.  Discord does not exist during this era.

Oh, how Eon groans at the lull.  All this balance is intolerable.  Strife, sadness, and hate are what keeps time sated.  Time maintains a steady pace in his hands when the Universe is depressed.  A slow continuous speed — tic, tic, tic.  Eon observes all suffering and despair with amusement.  Those are the eras that he wish lasted forever for it made the living beings more satisfying.

The living show their true nature when they are distressed or depressed.  They release their inner monsters, showing true faces to the creators of the cosmos.  With each face revealed, their vulnerability is relished.  Exposure yields energy, which is rich and delectable during the harrowing seasons.  The essence of life is consumed by the Gods, enabling their immortal existence.   The thread that binds life lays slack in Eon’s fingers during these eras.

Time must flow slowly so that the Reapers can collect every last bit of despondent energy.  As the keeper of time, Eon must maintain the harvest period.  He remains in control if the Gods’ hunger is sated.  Famine grows from balance, for that enables the living to hoard their energies.  They become selfish little beings, clinging on to their vitality as fuel for their happiness; not sharing life with the Gods that created them.  The ignorance and self-serving  drives Eon to anger.  He punishes them by pulling on the thread, speeding up their time, only stopping when the Fates play a hand in favor of the Gods.

Another pull lands the Universe in the pit of war.  Worlds versus worlds; battles taken to the stars.  Eon smiles, his existence is secure.  He watches them all, the puppet master of their lifespan.  The lives of many are intertwined, driven by one single thread of time.

– If you have enjoyed this piece, be sure to check out my Flash Fiction Library. –

This week’s Prompt:  The lives of many are intertwined.

Click here to see Chris Musgrave’s Horror-off FF Challenge post, Weaver.  You can also follow us both at The Sarcastic Muse

If you would like to join in on the Horror-Off Flash Fiction Challenge,  be warned – there are rules:

1. You don’t talk about Horror-Off

2. Stories must be flash fiction (1K words or less)

3. Stories must have conflict, character, and resolution

4. Stories should be in the horror/fantasy/sci-fi/spec fic genre

5. Prompts are to be posted on the Flash Fiction blog post (post or link to your FF submission in the comment section below )

6. This is just for fun and scares, so don’t expect any prizes.

7. You don’t talk about Horror-Off… except when you talk about it

Follow these rules and write a wicked FF piece.  That will deter Fifi from appearing at your house, threatening you to write.   Trust me, you don’t want that happening.  Especially if you don’t have cookies…

Within your lifetime, you have walked past thirty-six murderers.  Indeed a harrowing fact that is always ignored, pushed from memory the instant that it is heard.  No one wants to acknowledge that they are in close proximity to one who has stolen life, let alone thirty-six.

However, this fact should be something that you are aware of.  Something that you fear.  The fear will keep you guarded, safe, protected.  Each passing encounter with a murderer should be met with a knowing glance.  Acknowledgement is the key to keep your blood in your veins, skin intact, heart beating.

The reason the thirty-six exist is because you let your guard down.  You are vulnerable, ignorant to the facts that walk past you on the sidewalk, stand behind you in the grocery store, sit next to you on the bus.

Open your eyes and absorb your surroundings.  Analyze everything.  Stop making it so easy to be abducted, to be prey, to be slaughtered.  You make it all too easy for me to be number thirty-seven and the last person you encounter.

– If you have enjoyed this piece, be sure to check out my Flash Fiction Library. –

Chris Musgrave, my Sarcastic Muse partner-in-horror, and I are having a Horror-off Flash Fiction Challenge.  Tune in every Friday to watch the blood fly in the ring as we duke it out over Flash Fiction.  If you feel brave enough, please join in – at your own risk.

Here is Chris’ entry:

Nature vs. Nurture

In your lifetime, you’ve walked past thirty-six murderers. Isn’t that astounding? Thirty-six murderers. I’ll bet every one of them looked you up and down, maybe gave you a little smile, all the while fantasising about butchering you in as many ways as will make your head spin.

They can be very creative creatures, murderers. Some prefer knives, others use their hands, and others still dream of methods you would never even think possible. It’s frightening really.

While you are living your life in blissful ignorance, someone somewhere is enjoying the thrill of the hunt. Someone is breaking into another’s house or snatching an unsuspecting victim from the street. The really malicious, and there are a few, lure you to them. The skill that must take. You have to give them a little credit for that. One minute you’re laughing at the possibility of taking advantage of an infirm gent who just wants the best deal on his car; the next you’re bound and gagged in his basement. There’s a kind of irony in that, don’t you think?

People fascinate me. What makes one person become a doctor or a lawyer and another relish in the joy of extinguishing a life? Ever heard of the old nature versus nurture debate? I’m no expert but I’ve heard enough evidence to suggest it could go either way. Not convinced about the influence of videogames though. If videogames warped our minds, we’d all be running around gravity-defying landscapes collecting gold rings and saving woodland creatures. Amaright?

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! What is it that makes one human being want to kill another? Why are some of us hardwired to violence? How do killers choose their victims? How do they refine their technique? So many questions and so little time. I suppose no one will ever know for certain, not even them.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that, in your life to date, you’ve walked past thirty-six murderers. I can’t let you make that thirty-seven.

This week’s prompt:  Within your lifetime, you have walked past thirty-six murderers. 

If you enjoyed this Flash Fiction piece, be sure to check out my other works.