New Ironforge

Doomed by salvation.

This story was an entry for the second round of the NYC Midnight 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2025 which (regretfully) I didn’t pass.

GENRE: Fairy Tale and/or Fantasy
ACTION: Scolding
WORD: patch

Check out the one that got me through the 1st round:

Less Than a Minute

“Stupid child.” Rasped mother Krag over thunderous thumps. “You’ve doomed us!”

A hundred years old and still not considered an adult hurt, but not as much as the accusation.

“Didn’t you see what happened to the halfling village? That tiny patch of green.” Flung the matriarch. “Dead. All dead.”

I kept silent, clutching a tiny object. Eyes cast down. Shuddering at impacts on the gate.

“Cat-folk, massacred. Elven castles, in ruins.” Krag’s stare ablaze with dismay.

A violent crash announced the breach.

“You saw hordes of gnolls, drow, orcs sweeping the realm like a plague.”

A wail of battle horns followed by a roar of my brethren charging the enemy reached us.

“You knew! Still, you went out to see that fairy witch. Led the evil back to our dwarven pride—mountain-city, our hidden salvation.” Krag rambled, the battle drawing nearer.

“Why?!”

I looked up. Resolved. A tiny scroll in my palm.

“Hiding is NOT a salvation!” I bellowed. “This is!”

Petrified, Krag watched me unfurl the paper.

As I read aloud, ancient words bearing no meaning, the powerful magic blossomed, dissolving the world.

My senses began to return. First, smells—a stench of sulphureous exhaust.

Then hearing—a cacophony of otherworldly sounds.

And finally, the sight—my tribe, in a place stranger than any tale. Tall mountains of glass, horseless chariots, a lonely dragon piercing the sky, and crowds of strange people—like elves but ugly—looking at us curiously, one of them approaching.

“Cool act, bro.” He announced, towering above me. “Welcome to Manhattan!”

---