Noting the arcane symbol carved into the gnarly oak tree in the massively overgrown yard, Seksan felt his stomach twist, but he was ready. After all, the witch hunter’s talent and enterprise had kept him intact this long.
When he reached the door, it blew open with a blast, and Seksan entered. Predictably, the air was thick with the stench of thaumaturgy.
“Come to the kitchen, Hunter! I’ve been waiting,” called a voice.
This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:
- The Sunday Muse #251;
- Fandango’s One-Word Challenge: ‘intact’;
- Ragtag Daily Prompt Saturday: ‘oak’;
- Word of the Day Challenge: ‘stomach’;
- Your Daily Word Prompt: ‘thaumaturgy’;
- The Daily Spur: ‘symbol’;
- Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #303: ‘enterprise’
37 thoughts on “The stench of thaumaturgy”
Your agility to thread all these prompts into a coherent post is amazing. Well done, angain, David.
💞🙏🏻 Bill 🙏🏻💞 ~ thanks so much
Beware of the magicians, they use tricks that can blow your mind. I had one run a sword through my neck, from ear to ear. Never will I forget that!! Nightmares!!!
🧡🙏🏻 Jim 🙏🏻🧡 ~ hahaha!
Excellent idea to combine the word prompts. Love the magic and intrigue. Now I wonder what was waiting behind that door? 😊
💚🙏🏻 Abi 🙏🏻💚 ~ me too
Thauma-what? I’d steer clear of that room in any event!
❤ 🙂 Shay 🙂 ❤ ~ me too!