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I’m a bit late on these last two weeks of my flash fiction challenge, but hey. Better late than never.

#JuneFlashFictionChallenge In 15 minutes or less, please write a flash fiction using any or all words in the following randomized prompt. Then post either your link or full piece in comments.

Prompt 3: athlete, attack, narrow, ghost, execute, gifted, burial, acquit

The Need for Dark Pants

The attack came out of nowhere. Well, I suppose it wasn’t technically nowhere since it actually came from due north where our enemy lay – allegedly asleep but I guess NOT asleep because of said sneak attack.

We were not prepared and thus, absolutely routed.

It was a narrow escape.

Before you judge me, it’s not that I didn’t fight and am a coward. It’s more that when I saw my impending death (which is quite a feat considering it was nighttime and there was no moon and in retrospect, a strategic time to execute said routing but alas, our incompetent leaders – gods bless their decapitated souls – did not foresee it), I fought my way to the back and ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction of the fighting.

That probably doesn’t acquit me but I’m alive and in no need of a mass burial so I’m quite fine with not being a ghost and though I was never a gifted athlete, I have always had a knack for self-preservation.

We all have our talents.

Also, if I were dead, you wouldn’t have the dubious pleasure of hearing about my firsthand account now would you? You would have to settle for less reliable sources and then how would you preserve your precious histories? You likely would have to make things up wholesale and then your credibility would be shot and no one would ever trust you again. Your entire livelihood depends on me. You should thank me instead of shaming me.

Wait, wait, wait. Please don’t go. Perhaps I have overstated my importance.

I’m just so thirsty and hungry and I think I soiled myself so would you happen to also have a change of pants? No? Ah, then I apologize in advance for the smell. It can’t be helped, you see.

Oh, where was I? Yes, yes. The battle – if it could indeed be called such a thing. We were all asleep and our night watch was quickly dispatched – poor saps – so they didn’t have a chance to raise a warning. I only happened to be on my way to relieve myself already so I was not as easy prey. And when the screaming started I knew better than to properly squat and shit so I did the wise thing and ran.

What? Of course I ran. Do I look like an idiot to you?

Okay, yes. An idiot who didn’t bring their weapons to the latrine trench so that’s on me, but I was fighting in spirit. And like I said, I’m alive and I have zero regrets. What do I care who wins this war? I will still be taxed and treated as the peasant I am? What does it matter who is doing the taxing?