The Holy Grail
A microfiction story about a micro heist
“Come on Toby…”
This is my cousin, Kris. He somehow convinced me to go out today and go for the holy grail.
Every year, this holy grail comes and drives us all crazy. There are so many myths about this: some say it improves your vision, some say it can regrow limbs, and some even say it could make you immortal! No one really knows the truth.
“Kris you gotta be careful. Stick to the shadows”. All we know is that an immeasurable number tried to obtain it but failed. And failure meant death.
“don’t worry man, we’re almost there. Come on!”
We weave across every obstacle; of course, they put traps everywhere to protect their treasure, but dodging them was a piece of cake. Nothing could stop us
We’ve trained well for this, but I still can’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea.
“We’re almost there, Toby!” said Kris, looks back at me.
“We just got luc…” all of the sudden I see a giant shadow covering Kris, and it kept getting bigger. Kris looked up, and a peaceful smile covered his face. He accepted his fate.
****
“God damn cockroaches! Honey, let's call the exterminators”
About the Creator
Mo Darasi
I write fiction, poetry and occasional articles about interesting topics.
Finding interesting ways to write a poem or hide messages within them seems to be my main interesting in writing now, and it's been fun
Letters to ada
Letter I – From Layth to Ada Void, beyond the 22nd century My Dearest Ada, Your eyes... velvet that dissolves the last remnants of my coldness. I was an extinguished ember, until your radiance moistened me like a river-child bending over an ancient thirst in my chest. You blinked—and all of Time leaned toward my mouth. A redness upon your lips touched my fissures, and I softened... I, whom stones never softened. Your iris was my window and my mirror: a core that illuminates and desiccates what remained of my cold soul. I whisper to you a gesture of containment, and I dissolve in Time, even though I was frozen beneath the anesthesia of heavy smoke from a cigarette that keeps the night awake in my blood. I hid a poet in an old box—I feared that if he saw you, the world around me would be disturbed... but your wide lashes excavated the box and awakened what had died before you. You approached... and in the silence of night you were like a thread of light passing over my heart. I saw sorrow wrapped around your white shawl, its yellowness faded as if traces of a day that continued to extinguish. I said to you in a whisper, my voice sagging between fear and wonder: Will you entwine your hand in mine, and shall we slip together to the bottom of Time... without fear? You smiled, and the universe slackened around me, as if the warmth of your fingers was all that remained of the world. And you were asking in silence: “Where is your place within my embrace?” And I, in whose throat the sword of silence had been planted, found myself choosing you before I could speak. Black were your eyes, yet they kindled a daylight within me. And for the first time... O you of the two eyes, I felt that I was luminous.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Lol, look forward to reading more of your stories 😂
This one is great, Mohammed! You totally had me with the story line, and I LOVED the twist! This made me laugh and shudder at the same time. Very clever and well executed;)
Great anecdote ❤️📝💯we must all accept our fate❗😉