The ending of a story is not quite enough thanks for sticking around all this time. 'Specially that ending. So, in that vein, I have something special for you all. A super short story I wrote called "Ezah The Jewel Thief." It's about a jewel thief. Named Ezah. Bet you didn't see that coming. I wrote it as a challenge to write a story in under 500 words. One day, I hope to expand on the story, but maybe not. I kind of like it as it is. I'm sure you will too.
The sound of the Queen’s men had long
ago faded into the distance as Ezah raced headlong through the woods. Tangled
branches and gnarled trees covered the path, but she paid them no mind. To
Ezah, the world seemed insubstantial, dream like even. After the events at the
palace, she could almost believe she was still asleep! She had to make sure it was real, not a dream
but truth.
She stopped her run, and with deft hands
reached into one of the many hidden pockets under her cloak and pulled out a
small, velvet bag. Ezah turned the bag over, spilling its contents into her
open palm. Immediately, the light from the Nightstone rushed out, filling the
wood with an unnatural blue glow. Faster than she took it out, Ezah returned
the jewel to its bag, though what was the rush? Even as she stood in the forest,
the sound of pursuit had long since vanished.
“I’ve done it!” Her yell filled the air,
shaking birds from the neighboring trees.
It had taken months of preparation, days
of practice, and one poor sap to steal this stone, but now it was hers. Hers
and hers alone. She sat down under an old oak tree and removed her fox mask, letting
her long hair fall free. The night air felt cool against her face, slick with
sweat from the night’s exertions.
She almost felt bad about leaving poor Morlo
alone with the Queen and her guards. Almost. She needed a fall person, and
Morlo fit the role quite nicely. Someone needed to keep the queen occupied
while Ezah escaped. Anyway, it was his own fault. The fool boy should have
known better then to agree to help her steal the Nightstone. He claimed to be a
thief, but he didn’t know the most important rule: Never trust a thief.
Ezah reached down to retrieve her mask
when she froze. Honed by years of living the thief’s life, her senses yelled
that something was wrong, that danger approached. But, before she could so much
as move, the trap sprang shut. All around her guards from the Queen’s court
appeared from the foliage. Ezah jumped up, reaching for her knives, preparing
to defend herself.
“If you want the Nightstone, come and
take it,” she yelled to the surrounding men.
Each one stared impassively at her as they
marched closer. She raised her arm, preparing to throw her first knife when a
familiar voice stilled her hand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Things
would go much easier for you if you just hand over the Nightstone.”
“Morlo? What, what’s going on?” Ezah turned
around and saw the wiry youth sitting in a tree only a few yards away. Around her,
the Queen’s guards were closing in, the circle they had made growing smaller by
the second. First fear, then anger filled Ezah. She had been betrayed.
Jumping down from his perch, Morlo
walked unhurriedly towards her. “Shouldn’t it be obvious Ezah? You broke the
first rule. Never trust a thief.”
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