Altruist

This story was written as an entry in the 2016 NYCMidnight Flash Fiction Contest. I had 2 days to write a <1,000 word story with the following prompts:

Genre = Fantasy // Location = Cotton Plantation // Object = Mustard

* * *

Tiny white clouds of cotton rise up from their stalks around me like inverted snowfall. They fly into the air and swirl into a conical funnel that splits off into small columns in the distance. I turn my head and look back at my plow and cart resting uselessly by the barn. Much has changed.

My golden-yellow stallion carries me along the path towards a platform overlooking the plantation. “Good boy,” I say, patting Mustard on his neck as we approach. I tie him to a wooden beam of the platform and feed him a carrot before I climb the ladder to the top.

A robed man stands on the platform muttering incantations with arms raised high. The funnel of cotton flows up and down with his hands. He is one of the Nameless.

I clear my throat and the Nameless spreads his fingers, instructing the cotton to freeze mid-flight. The chains on his feet clatter as he turns to me. His solid black eyes fix on mine and the hairs on my neck stand on end. The black, endless pits gaze not at me, but through me—as if looking into the back of my skull.

“Master…” he says.

I swallow, trying to bury my fear of this man—my slave—deep in my stomach. “Are you well?”

“I am as you bid me to be.” His voice is so cold I can nearly feel it like a winter breeze upon my ears.

I stand silent, hands fidgeting nervously.

“May I return to my work?”

“I—I just came to thank you…”

“Do you thank your axe as you cut down a tree? Do you thank your horse as it carries your burdens? I am a tool. You do not thank a tool.”

My brow furrows reactively. “You are correct. I do not thank my axe. I do thank the blacksmith for making my axe sharp, so I may cut true and clear the land. And I thank my horse every day. He is the first purchase I ever made, yet I will never repay the debt I owe to him for helping me create this place. I am in awe of your power. Your tool. And I thank you for wielding it.”

The Nameless raises an eyebrow. “These are words. Nothing more.”

I turn away in frustration. “You may return to your work.”

* * *

Several days have passed, and I reflect on my good fortune as I walk to the stable. Merchants travel from afar to acquire my commodities and sell them or spin them into fine fabrics. My wealth grows. I have not spoken with the Nameless again, yet I cannot push our last conversation from my mind.

I enter the stable wondering if I should attempt a second visit. Immediately, I sense something is wrong. A stillness fills the air.

I run to Mustard’s stall. He lies in the hay. His breathing is faint. I reach out to place my hand on his stomach when I hear a hiss.

In the corner, a snake slithers its way towards me. I grab a nearby pitchfork and swing it, keeping the devil-creature at bay. It snaps its powerful jaw and blood drips from its fangs. I glance over at Mustard and see the bite marks on his calf.

The snake hisses again and tries to maneuver its way around my defenses. It springs forward and I jab with all my strength catching the snake in the mouth. It squirms for a moment, then falls still.

I rush to Mustard and massage his side as I investigate the wound. “It’ll be alright, old friend,” I say, knowing that it’s too late. A purple stain spiders up his leg from the bite, following his veins. Soon it will reach his heart. He whimpers in pain. It will not be an easy death.

But I can make it so. 

I remove the knife from my belt and place my hands on Mustard’s head as tears swell in my eyes. “Thank you, my friend.” I brush my fingers though his mane. “We’ve been through everything together in this life. And we will do it again when I find you in the next one.” I bring the knife behind his ear and begin humming a soothing tune.

“Master…”

I turn to see the Nameless standing in the stall door. His shackles are nowhere to be seen. “How did you—?”

He begins to chant and swirls his hands through the air like a dance. Slowly, a purple liquid seeps from Mustard’s bite and rises up. I stare in awe as the lethal stain begins to recede towards the bite. Eventually, the golden color completely returns to Mustard’s leg. The Nameless waves his hand and the venom spirals down and returns into the snake’s body.

I throw my knife away and hug Mustard’s head. His breathing and heartbeat have already regained strength. “I can’t believe it. I almost lost you.”

I turn, but the Nameless has vanished.

Outside, I see cotton rising from the fields. I sprint and climb the platform to the Nameless.

“You do not need to thank me,” he says as I approach.

“I’m not going to thank you,” I say, panting. “I’m going to repay you.” I remove a key from my belt and unlock his shackles. “Clearly the chains never truly held you captive here, but nevertheless,” I toss the key into the field, “you are free.”

“The Nameless cannot be free.”

“Then you will not be Nameless. For your kindness and selflessness, you shall henceforth be known as Altruist.”

He turns away and begins chanting at the fields once again. I sigh and leave the platform, walking back to the stable. Before I enter, I look back one last time and something catches my eye. The cotton swirls in a new pattern. I trace the lines through the air and I see two words take shape… 

I smile. “You’re welcome, Altruist.”

(c) Kade Kessler 2016

* * *

If you enjoyed this story (or hated it) or have any feedback at all let me know in the comments below! If you want to read more by me head over to my Short Stories page!