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Rot: Part 4 - Plaque to the Future
Rot: Part 4 - Plaque to the Future
Rot: Part 4 - Plaque to the Future
Ebook48 pages41 minutes

Rot: Part 4 - Plaque to the Future

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His wife has been kidnapped.

He's a fairy on the run.

The prophecy says he alone can restore balance and harmony to the Kingdom. The Fairy Godmother might have something to say about that.

Piece o'cake.

(11,500 words)

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THE ROT COLLECTION
Part 1: Origin of the Feces
Part 2: The Tooth Hurts
Part 3: Flossed and Found
Part 4: Plaque to the Future
Part 5: Gum but not Forgotten
Part 6: Filling Time

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAidan J. Reid
Release dateMar 28, 2020
ISBN9780463815007
Rot: Part 4 - Plaque to the Future
Author

Aidan J. Reid

AIDAN J. REID is a writer originally from Cloughmills, Northern Ireland.He has written four novels:PATHFINDERS - (sci-fi)The Tom Regan thrillers, SIGIL and YAGERAISING LAZARUS - (suspense)He has also written several short stories and is most proud of the ROT collection, which tells the story of a rogue tooth fairy who pulls teeth out of the mouths of kids for a tidy profit.You can find out more on aidanjreid.com, follow him @aidanjreid or get a bunch of free goodies by following his newsletter - http://eepurl.com/c7ffO9

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    Book preview

    Rot - Aidan J. Reid

    Part 4: Plaque to the Future

    Aidan J. Reid

    Part 4: Plaque to the Future

    by Aidan J. Reid

    First Smashwords Edition © 2020 Aidan J. Reid

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than that in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author.

    This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    -

    www.aidanjreid.com

    -

    Cover design – My Own! Aren’t I clever?

    Part 4: Plaque to the Future

    The forest is ablaze. There’s explosions all around us, like firecrackers. Clearin’ its throat. Hollow trees, standin’ pillars of fire, are lighting up the dark skies. The flames are spreading fast as if it’s a growing, livin’ thing. Thick black smoke hugs the scorched ground at our feet. S’Gettin’ harder to breathe. There’s shrieks above our head. I look up and see dark shapes hopping from tree to tree. Little spark orbs drift up into the sky to join them. Tryin’ to escape the wave of fire. The heat is climbin’. We move away from the trees closest, but we’re still surrounded by a ring of fire. There’s creaking and the sound of trees fallin’. It’s hard to see where. The noise is deafening.

    Out of nowhere, there’s a piercing scream. I cover my ears. Too late. An almighty wail from somewhere over our shoulder. The kind of scream that freezes your blood. It cuts through the noise. The forest is alive all around us but at the sound, everything seems to pause in fear. It cries out again. This time closer. My ears are cupped with my hands but it still makes it’s way through. Like it’s in my head. Tearin’ on my soul.

    There’s a hard tug on my shoulder. Ian. He’s strugglin’ for breath. He rips a hand from my ear.

    We need to go. Now, I lip read.

    I stumble after him, groping through the smoke, desperate not to lose sight. I reach out for his tail and grab it in my dizziness. Some warped version of pin the tail on the donkey. We’re running past flaming bushes, and thick hollow oaks, their insides choking with smoke. On either side, figures run past, in the opposite direction. Toward the fire. Through the haze, I make out their short, stocky shapes, bright colors and wearing…pointed hats?

    Shouldn’t we help? I shout at Ian, barely able to hear my own voice. Then again, I don’t have the acuity of goat’s ears.

    He shouts something back. I make out the words ‘gnomes’ and ‘save forest’.

    After zigzagging our way through undergrowth, trying to outrun the wildfire, we come upon a clearing and slow down. Someone has turned down the heating in the forest. It’s on our backs. It’s also gotten darker without the fire light. It’s a flat circle of compact hard ground. Nothing growing on it. Like God stubbed out his cigar on it. We walk to the middle, out from under the border of trees and sit down in the bullseye center. The air is cleaner at least. In the distance the rumble of fire continues.

    That scream…

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