Microfiction is a subset of flash fiction (fiction of 1000 words or less) in which stories have 300 words or less. This one is something between fantasy and horror, and the inspiration was chosen by Ali Malin: “grilled cheese and triceratops.”
The once-grand dining hall was lit only by the candles illuminating the chipped plate that held Kensia’s final meal. “Eat up,” Dallan, the soldier-priest who was her jailer and only human companion ordered from the darkness. “This is what you wanted.” Indeed, Kensia had requested the simple fare of gooey melted cheese sandwiches and root vegetables. She had eaten one sandwich for appearances, and was nibbling the crusts of the other, being sure to leave as much cheese as possible for Elegda.
The demonic whispering was muted in the hushed dining hall. There were no mirrors left in there, after all. They’d been shattered in the surrender. Anything reflective. The soldier-priests had thought they knew how to prevent her night-dark magic.
They didn’t know what she knew.
She ate the crusts of the sandwich, taking her time to savor the drips of melted cheese, cooling in the night air. Elegda liked the gooey heart of the sandwiches almost as much as she liked the hotly metallic taste of a terrified heart bursting between her fangs.
Kensia laid her fork down, and noticed that Dallan flinched, the triceratops patch on his sleeve flashing in the candlelight. Good. She wanted him a little afraid. Elegda wanted him a little afraid. “Dallan,” she said sweetly, “Could I have a few more carrots?”
The soldier-priest sighed. “I’ll go get you some.”
“Thank you,” Kensia said softly. She waited till his footsteps had faded, then moved quickly, tilting her glass of water onto the table. The reflection shown in the light. Her tongue twisted around the incantations of summoning, and she closed her eyes, feeling hot demon claws pick at her handcuffs. Freedom tasted delicious, she thought.
She kept her eyes closed even after Dallan’s screaming began. Humans were so dramatic about being sacrificed.