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Fiction Writers Group Flash Fiction for January 11, 2020

Here is this week's entry, prompted by this:





World Without End

Ha funzionato!


The young apprentice stared in wonder at the round glowing world slowly rotating before him. The incantation so carefully written in octopus ink had all run together into a formless blot. The other precious components of the spell, hidden away in a simple rosewood box and secured by his Master with three different binding spells were consumed entirely. Cuttings of a raven’s claw, left eye of a vole, dried and crushed weasel tongue – all gone.

The magick took its payment too, reducing his ducats to the thinnest of paper.


But it was all worth it. This will free me from bondage to Mage Roberto, that black bastard!


He gazed at the image rotating before him. Afraid to reach out and touch it for fear it would disappear, he traced with his mind the outline of the unknown lands, the entirely new continents.


I knew I was right. There is no edge. I can sail completely around it and return back here to Genoa.


These were nothing more than hollow dreams as the boy had no ship and, until now had no means of ever being more than a lowly deckhand. But he knew that the knowledge being revealed to him could cement his fortune.


My name will be known to generations throughout the world.


The first flicker startled him from his reverie. Fear drove a spike through his heart as the glowing vision faded and flickered.


“No,” he gasped aloud. In a panic he surveyed the mess before him on the table. He knew it would take him years to collect the means to reproduce this magick, and without it he could convince no one of his truth.


With a weak flash, the glow of the globe died. Head in hands, Cristoforo Colombo wept.

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