Welcome to a new storytelling podcast from me, Chris Chinchilla. Listen above, or search for “Chinchilla tales” wherever you find your podcasts.

This episode contains two works of flash fiction from a text and audio collection of flash fiction available now. It’s called “Small gregarious fiction, volume 1”, find out more at chrischinchilla.com/books.

The first deals with what happens when legends retire, and the second with opportunity from adversity.

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Legend

I rested my lance in its ornate frame one last time, cleaning the gore from its tip and shaft and polishing it to bring back some sheen and shine.

I called for my squire to unfasten my heavy armour. He had been with me for years now, and I felt his deft fingers work through the clasps and straps, and slowly the weight encasing my body fell, and I could move more freely for the first time in days. I let out a deep breath and reclined in my favourite leather chair, the tension in my body waning as I did. My squire fetched me a glass of fine wine, and I beckoned for him to join me in a toast. He looked surprised at the invite but joined me anyway, knowing that as this had been my final mission for the kingdom, protocol be damned.

He broke the silence first. “How do you feel, sir?”

I took a long sip of wine and reflected on my decades of adventuring and service. I was tired, my body ached from years of abuse, and it was time I stopped. I was to move into training and mentoring the current and next generation of those like me, sharing knowledge and experience to mould them into the best they could be. Still, it wasn’t quite the same as a life on the road.

I sighed. “Mixed. I have never been one for emotion. As you well know, I don’t have the time for it. I am sorry to leave a lifetime behind, but I know I have to. It’s time for new legends to be born.”

My squire nodded and topped my glass, sloshing it with wine. I bid him cheers and looked around the room at the mementoes from my adventures. There was the giant skull of Haxdar, the first dragon I slayed, its leering eye sockets forever peering at me as a reminder of that harrowing day. There was the magic staff of Valdeer the Lich, sealed in a magic-proof cage so no one could ever wield its evil again. That was a battle I still have nightmares over. And there was the bow of Jilana, once my adventuring companion and lover. We had so many adventures together until the warlord of Forlarn struck her down with a mighty battle axe. A tear nearly gathered in my eye as I thought of her, and my squire, following my eyes, distracted my thoughts by changing the subject.

“I hear you start swordcraft classes tomorrow with the new officers? What will you teach them?”

Shaken from my memories, I turned to him and thought. What would I teach this new generation of legend makers? What lessons from my years of experience were the most important, the most essential to my survival and success. I sipped my wine. I had no idea.

The plane in the forest

She awoke and looked around her, pain flowing through her body. Her whole left side seared with pain from her shoulder to her toes. Her eyes cracked open, and took in the scene around her.

She was still strapped into a seat, an oxygen mask uselessly flapping around her face. Empty seats around her, a trail of detritus strewn around from single-use drink serves to magazines and children’s toys. There were flashing lights in the distance, but she couldn’t focus on where they were coming from. In the background was a faint mechanical hum, accompanied by the sound of metal coming to rest, gently wheezing as it released tension and cooled in the breeze.

The breeze. Wait, that didn’t make sense. Wasn’t she on a plane? That was the last time she remembered anything clearly. There had been some form o

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Erscheinungs­datum: 8.8.2023, 15:32:00