Writing a short story

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I’m writing some flash fiction (1000 words max) as an “assignment” of sorts in the Facebook group called Transgender Artists & Poets. My story will take place in Iceland and is about an Elvish princess who is part of a secret order of þriðjakyn (pronounced with a trill of the tongue on the R “threy-ya-kin” and means third gender) called Sisters of Marí. She doesn’t want to be queen, but time is running short. It will be a dark comedy. That’s my goal, anyway. The deadline is Aug 18th, and I will post it here.

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Looking forward to reading it.

:-)

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Here is the premise for my story. It has spoilers, but the best part will be how it will all unfold. To see it, select the text after the first sentence that I made white, just in case others don't want to know.

Arisa Thorirdóttir is an Elvish princess in Iceland, and is part of a secret order of þriðjakyn (pronounced “THRAY-ya-kin” with a trill on the R. It means Third Gender) called The Sisters of Marí. She is meant to be Queen, and time is running short. An accident happens where her fairy friend Faida gets her wings ripped off by Arisa as she tries pulling her away from the Elvish prince Hinrik. Faida absolutely despies Hinrik, and was trying to annoy him as he attempted to embrace Arisa. Fairy wings grow back very slowly, but Faida was still sad and furious, so she plots to have Hinrik killed. Arisa just gets increasingly fed up with everyone over this ordeal, decides to be Queen out of spite, declares Elf and Fairy marriage legal, and takes Faida as her lover. Everyone thinks she’s lost her mind. Faida suggests that anyone who opposes her should have their arms ripped off. Arisa found that amusing, and declared the ruling. Nobody fucked with Arisa or Faida ever again.

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Well, today is the sort-of deadline for the flash fiction "contest" over on Facebook. I only have half of mine finished. Here's what I have:

THE QUEEN WAS SHE (PART I)

by River Arin Laurie

    Arisa Thorindóttir simply didn’t want to be queen. She was perfectly fine among her þriðjakyn circle, The Sisters of Marí. The stresses of the kingdom were elusive and dismissive to her. She was different, and she found her happiness in just being the girl she was. Higher responsibilities were for those who had no real sense of life and purpose. In fact, true higher responsibility transcended all that pompous parle and politic. No, she had far better things to do.

She sat by her favorite fairy foss in Aevintýri in light contemplation as she made lúpínu crowns for her sisters. Today, the fall of the water seemed to trickle and splash with a subtle urgency; almost suspiciously. Trying to listen harder, she lost grasp of a nearly complete crown. A quick breeze blew little violet petals in her face as she fumbled and lost it to the brook.

“Frussdrullandi apa-eysta!” she cried in annoyance. Faida, her fairy confidante, was playing nearby and came to her like a snap of light.

“Risi! Language!” exclaimed Faida.

“Oh, whatever! Freya has it out for me, I just know it.”

Faida giggled, and said, “are you sure it’s not the lúpínu?”

“You’d better watch out, you little fruit fly!” Arisa chortled, and began chasing Faida further towards her kingdom in Stokkseyri. They giggled and smashed through the town, and more specifically, right into a very poshly charming Hinrik Magnusson with a gasp of embarrassment which swiftly became a berating.

“You! You — look where you’re going!” she said, followed by Faida’s mocking “ppphhtt!” as she zipped off away from the both of them.

Hinrik grins, as boys do, before stopping Arisa from running away, as well.

“Wait! Tell me, Risi… When are we to marry? And aren’t you set to be qu—” Hinrik began as Arisa fiercely and laughingly interjected.

“Are you joking? No no no, we are not having this conversation! And you don’t get to call me Risi! Only Faida!”

Faida heard her name and came beaming back with a fury as she began attacking Hinrik’s face. As he tried to swat her away that only angered Arisa even more, and she tried as delicately as she could to pull Faida away from him. Her hands gave way to an unfortunate slip, and that’s when it happened…

Arisa had pulled at Faida’s wings in such a tiny moment of resistance, and off they came. In her shock, Faida fell unconscious. Arisa was immediately sick to her stomach. She made Hinrik pick her up and take her back to the caves while she hurried over to someone’s expensive vase, ripping out the flowers, and vomiting to the owner’s terror.

Hinrik began, in a concerned daze, “Are… are y—”

“I’M FINE. I’M NOT FINE. MOVE!”

Arisa collected the withered wings and they hurried to the caves.