July 4th 2026
LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa Amehana Garcia
She glowered at the small green orbs that now assaulted her plate, knowing as they fell from Cooky’s ladle that she would have to allow them to do the same to her palate and her gut. Woe to the unfortunate sisters who would be subjected to tonight’s flatulence performance in her shared cell.
Sister Mardra hid a sigh of relief on discovering that a scoop of peas was not the only item served for dinner tonight. It had been done many times before. What was the occasion for two proteins?
More importantly, what was it?
She let her feet flow down familiar paths to her habitual seat. First, the potatoes and cabbage. Next, the creamy mystery meat, served over a healthy and surprising helping of French Fries. Truly divine, blessings to whatever kind soul had donated the beastie to their ancient nunnery. The Sisters of the Trumping Silences were temporarily saved from… the peas. The source of their trumps.
The Abbess watched the sisters with her slate eyes, lingering lightly on Mardra. Mardra placed a large spoonful of the pustulating peas into her mouth and chewed with exaggerated gratuity. Mardra had no doubt those who revealed their dislike of the sacred legume were spirited away into the winding passages beneath the nunnery. Trying to eat them all proved as difficult as usual. Thankfully, she had also been equipped with some French Bread… Mashing them up she spread the peas on the bread, also succeeding somewhat in masking the taste.
The Legend of their own Labyrinth was often whispered among the sister after lights out, particularly the mysterious link to the alligators of the Everglades and what legendary item of provenance they guarded.
Perhaps, whatever it was, would eventually free them from the peas.
Sister Mardra had just finished the last bit of her peas, distracting herself by mentally rerunning the scene wherein Anakin Skywalker had his limbs rather forcefully – she smiled at the pun – removed from his keeping. A soft clatter cut through the silence.
A suspicious wooden dish sat beside her own, bearing a yellow dangerfruit, lemon, and lavender flan concoction that normally would have been met with excitement by any of them. A treat? Again, what was the occasion?
Wait… What was the occasion? Her eyes narrowed, focusing more on the delicacy, then following the arm that was still withdrawing.
The Abbess.
“Sister, it is due to your diligence in tending the wounded on the paths that bring us such unaccustomed plenty this night. It is fitting you receive the first serving of pudding.” Her voice, coarse from disuse other than the soft prayer chants, was difficult to decipher at the distance from her ear. “See me in my chambers after Martins.”
She nodded a reply and ate her pudding as ordered, but Sister Mardra hadn’t been aware that her stomach was capable of dropping any lower. What could the Abbess want?
When the time finally came, and after nearly getting lost in the maze of hallways and stairs yet again (despite all her many long years in the cloister), and a close encounter with a suspiciously steamy “chocolate bar” clearly deposited by the Abbess’s French Bulldog during one of its nighttime escapes helping the cats combat the mice and rats… Mardra finally stood before the simple wooden door.
Which was already opening, since the Abbess had been waiting impatiently for her to catch up. A bony finger pointed in, and she followed it to the seat on the bed slab she’d just been assigned. Not the best start, in her mind. Clearly, also not the best start in the Abbess’s mind, either!
“I am here, Abbess. What did you need of me?” Her eyes met the rheumy ones that were sinking to join her on the bed.
“I have noticed that the world seems to be calling you louder than usual.”
Her stomach turned over. Was this about the crying spat when the ski competition had been interrupted by commercials? Had she missed a pea, and this was how she would be dismissed?
“No louder than usual, to my knowledge. I have my work here, praying for the souls of all those who need better nutrition, roughage, and tending the wounds of those braving the alligators.”
“None know the dangers that await those who try to find what they guard.” The Abbess made the sign over herself, Sister Mardra following and bowing her head on reflex. “But no. I have seen a sign.” She pointed at the small wood sign. It bore Sister Mardra’s former worldly name. “The adventure party had it in their possession.”
She nearly threw up her peas. “Elia Schmitd shall unite and guide us to save the world from the Trump of Completion, with the Trump of Completion.” She read slowly, seeing the literal sign she’d been dreaming of for days. “But, what if I don’t?”
“Then I’m afraid the end of the world looks very wrong and messed up indeed.”
“What even IS the Trump of Completion?”
“That, we need you for.” The Abbess pinned her with a gaze. “Do you remember how you resurrected that man?”
“I… farted… While treating him. It brought him back.”
“And what took him out again?”
“Farting in the medical bay when checking on him...”
“Yes, and so, you must now go through the Sacred Tunnels and Steps of Solemnizations, exit out into the swamp, and go find yourself. It is time.”
“I can’t save the world. I’m just a flatulent middle-aged woman...”
“Save. End. All the same. You must discover how to trumpet the new age into being.”
“Can I at least get a night’s sleep first?”
“Of course.” The Abbess looked at her. “We are The Sisters of the Trumping Silences, not a company of young adventurers on their first Quest. In the morning, after outfitting yourself. See the Chambress in the morning for your provisions.”
“Yes Abbess.”
She left for her cell, trailing odiferous reluctance.
Many interruptions later... Up early to post and go back to sleep. I'll put this in the other locations after more sleep. My bones hurt.
Should I start tagging the short stories with the genres?
Edit: I forgot to include, this was done using the FFM challenge prompt. https://flashficmonth.wordpress.com/2026/07/03/ffm-links-4-july-2026/
Generators chosen Event Prompt https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-event-prompt-generator
Event: The end of the world looks wrong and messed up.
Tense: Future tense.
Genre restriction: Cannot be apocalyptic.
- by MinneWinne
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Campfire Tales Prompt https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-campfire-tales-challenge-generator
1. Whodunit
2. Each suspect narrates a portion of the story
3. French bread, french fries, and a French bulldog
- challenge issued by ilyilaice
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Adventure Prompter https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-adventure-prompt-generator
Character: A thirty something woman, values solitude and peace, hates peas, her struggles with depression and anxiety have reduced her ability to deal with shenanigans and people. She cries at commercials but laughed hysterically when Anakin Skywalker got his limbs chopped off.
- by NamelessShe
Setting: An old nunnery, with a hidden maze of catacombs below it and mysterious staircases that don't lead anywhere. Or do they!?
- by salshep
MacGuffin: No one knew what the gators of the Everglades guarded, nor the dangers that awaited anyone who try to find out.
- by Teela-Y
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Daily
Why make lemonade when you can make so much more with a yellow danger fruit? by Teresa “Amehana” Garcia
