Warrior– Flash Fiction

Xena stood her ground before the fearful monster– eyes fixed, feet planted firmly, and head tilted back before letting out a challenging shriek. With a sudden movement, the warrior tore the sky in two and ravaged the trunk of the mossy beast. Her wooden sword tumbled backward and shards splintered the seam left in the air as she lost her footing and stumbled over sideways. A grunt escaped from her lips. She glared at the dirt pillowing at her cheek and rolled back over on her hands and knees. Catapulting forward, she leapt at her opponent– this time fists flying and tearing into the crusty, sharp flesh. The skin of her knuckles peeled backward, making way for rivers and smears of searing crimson yet she paid no heed and continued on without hesitation.

The snap of a twig caused the warrior’s gaze to wander outward, past the undergrowth and into the wood. She froze– tilting her chin slightly up and clenching her jaw before swallowing. The stale, uncooled, musk of a breeze was the only movement that dared disturb the moment except the sound of her fluttering heart as her lips curled gently upward in reverence.

The boy… no man… but still, somehow he seemed a boy– stood frozen, mirroring the wide eyes and statuesque pose of the wild deer that often passed through. Yet, this man looked not like a man… and not like a deer… and not like anything she had ever seen before this moment. His appendages dangled, awkwardly lanky and slightly askew. A thick coat of hair spread down from his chest like a matted and uncared for blanket and his skin revealed a mirage of cuts and twinkling scars as pale as his long, dreaded hair. The man’s eyes darted, searching for an exit but knowing they’d already been found.

“What are you doing?” asked the man, trying too late to hide the long claws extending from his hands. He let out a wince as one caught his side on the way behind him and added another crimson line to his tattered body. He looked down to meet her height and cocked his head as the girl procured a notebook and pen from the satchel on her back. She scribbled for a moment and then turned the paper around, holding it with outstretched arms.

Fighting monsters it said. Sweat dripped down the man’s face.

“I better get going then” he said as he tried to slip away. Xena interrupted his attempted escape, scribbling once again.

But you need me. It’s dangerous out there.

The man looked behind him both ways before meeting her firm, ice blue gaze once more. With a strange, crooked smile, he let out an awkward puff of breath.

“You must be confused… I am a monster” said the man. Xena smiled brightly before returning to her pad of paper.

It’s never the monsters who think that. It’s the warriors.

A long moment passed before the man processed the words, but when he did his face flushed a rosy red and eyes turned damp as tears rose to meet his eyes. Looking down, he tried to hide his vulnerability. Xena came closer to keep his gaze and stretched her hand toward the man– face sure and unafraid. The man looked at the girl for a long moment, searching for the reaction he expected but came up empty. Neither pair of eyes left the other as he inched his hand toward hers but as they grew ever closer he grimaced and halted at the sight of his sharp claws getting closer to her baby fair skin. Xena smiled at the hesitation and closed the distance.

Quivering, the man sank to his knees as years of emotions rushed out of their cage in a choked sob. Looking up at his tiny warrior, her eyes looked as steady as ever as she observed him without judgement. One final hesitation surfaced before he gave up the fight and went with the current. His massive arms swept her off her feet and into his warm, enveloping embrace… and with her he stayed.

~Fioza Leigh

Thank you for reading! Please comment below and let me know what you like/ didn’t like and share your thoughts! See you next time!

Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

flash fiction, writing

Begin Again- Flash Fiction

         Begin Again 


          Stupid cat, thought Akila as she glared glossy eyed at the last thing her father’s hands had held. She had screamed at him that night… screamed at him for the thought that this plush, stuffed, fat, cotton thing could possibly fill the hole left by her other dad. How could he possibly think this inanimate toy could replace the role of his now ex-lover? 


He had to hate her for it. That was the reason she was alone now, right? Getting juggled between aunts and uncles and friends of other relatives who would debate if she would be more happiness or more burden if added to their day-to-day lives? Now she sat in her uncle’s house– her words echoing… ringing in her ears. Just like the slam of the door that followed that night– and the shot of the gun that would tear through her house and Eurin’s head the day after that. 


          I wish you weren’t my father, she had said. And just like that, he was no longer. He shut the door on her… and on Eurin. And now Eurin was dead and it all her fault. It’s all my fault… it’s all my fault… it’s all my… 


          Ding! Ding! The sound of the doorbell shot through her mind, cutting the images of what shot through her father’s from view. She sniffed, running to the mirror in a frantic effort to make her face appear like a more normal, less swollen version of itself but soon gave up. She swung the door open with her best attempt of a smile only to realize she was putting on a show for no one. 


Instead, covering the tauntingly cheerful welcome mat, sat a very plain and simple dark oak box the size of her hand. She leaned over and picked it up, examining it for a note or engraving– any clue to where it had come from– but found nothing. Frowning, she took one last glance up and shut the door behind her. 


She continued to turn the box over that night as she sat by her bedside, opening it and closing it but still finding nothing. Confused, she turned out the lights, lay in bed, and turned over. 


Immediately the thoughts came rushing back. 


          If I hadn’t said that papa wouldn’t be gone. 

          I didn’t mean what I said… I’m such a bitch… he was perfect and now he’s gone. 

          They’re both gone… it’s all my fault… 

          It’s all my fault… 


          It’s all my fault. 


A rumbling seized the house, rolling deep and low… threatening like a hungry beast. Akila sat up in her bed and looked out the window for lightning but found nothing. She tiptoed down the hall, looking to see if anything was out of place but again nothing. Uneasy, she crawled back into bed. 


          If I wasn’t such a horrible daughter, my dads would both be here and I could snuggle with them right now. 

          Maybe papa wouldn’t have hated himself if he hadn’t adopted me. 


A schism tore across the ceiling of Akila’s bedroom, revealing a deep indigo 

sky, dripping through the space like blood. 


How did this happen? Akila thought. What did I do to cause this? 


The far side of the bedroom collapsed in on itself, narrowly missing the bed where she sat. Debris and rubble fell, threatening to destroy everything in its path. Horrified, she ran. 


I destroy EVERYTHING! 

            Why in the world would my uncle want me? Now I’ve ruined his house! 


Another wall crumbled, leaving the front door standing alone. 


I don’t bring anything good to this world! 


The foundations shook. 


I hate myself! 


The ground broke loose from under her. 


This world would be better off without me in it! 


The rubble crumbled until there was nothing left. 


Just as she was about to hit the ground, she jolted awake. Sweat filled her sheets as she gasped hollow breaths to stop the quaking. The room, the house, the walls were all intact. And still on the floor next to the bed laid the small oaken box. 


Akila picked it up and turned it over once more. Nothing had changed, that is until she looked inside. In the space lied the dust of drywall, a container of Spackle, and a putty knife. She looked up at the ceiling and found a small crack had begun to form above her bed. Slowly, she climbed up, took out the putty knife and started to fix the damage she had done.  


Photo by Ksenya Drozd on Unsplash

~ Fioza Leigh


art, character development, comics, illustration, Uncategorized, writing

Making a Comic- more progress! 

Well that face about explains it ladies and gents! The point of no return! It’s amazing what such small steps can do. 

Since I started my baby steps toward bringing Shattered Mirror onto paper, so much has changed. Completing page 3 now, all at once I’m feeling empowered that my dreams are indeed possible and battling fears that this journey is too much for me to tackle alone. 

Either way, I love these characters too much to not let them live anywhere but my head… so push ahead I will! Inking will start today so keep posted for some really finished pieces!

Cheers to the journey ahead! 


daily post, short stories, writing

The Delivery of Raphael– The Daily Post 2

~Delivery- a setting free from something that restricts or burdens~


♥ .    ♥ .    ♥ .    ♥

Raphael stooped and stared out of the tiny window of his living quarters– the only space that allowed any light to shine through. He wondered how it was that it had all come to this. He knew his father was proud of him… that running the family business was a thing he should be proud of. He had always liked the idea… had always been proud that it came so easily to him… wasn’t he?

But now, there was him. He had entered his life and delivered him from evil like Jesus Christ himself he thought cynically with his distaste for such beliefs. Now there was warmth… now– no pain. He wondered if he had ever allowed himself to truly feel before He jumpstarted his long dormant heart.

Everything was different now. How could he continue this business… this venture of treating human beings like animals? He hadn’t thought much of it before… hadn’t even seen it in that light in fact. But now, all at once– he wasn’t sure he was right.

©Fioza Leigh



The Daily Post



Chains of the Past


“Shit” thought Aubrey. “Blood stained… bruised cat fur. That’s what it looks like” she decided looking at the skin on her arm absent mindedly for what must have been the fifth time since the sun came up that day. Twitching the muscles in her right hand, she waited for any response from her pointer finger- though the effort was fruitless. A thin drape of animal hides fell straight into the palm of her hand as the snow gusts outside blew the wall of the tent back to its rightful position. “How many times” she wondered, “can it look like that before it stops working”?

True, today was one of the better days. At least this time she had a delicate, dancing company from the baby fire in the corner furthest from where she laid. She sent out a mental plea for the fire to avert its face- as if to preserve its light. She stole a glance of warmth just before the body attempting to smash itself into hers shifted weight to get a better angle. She tilted her head back and resumed staring at the hole in the ceiling to avoid the wall of stench that had threatened to fill her nostrils. A few more awkward movements and the man was finished. Back to pulling up his wolf skin trousers. Back to tidying up the wrinkles and erasing the evidence. Back to his day like he had just taken nothing more than a food break.

“Thanks lady” the man slobbered, rubbing his sweaty cheek against hers. “Or should I say lentleman” the man laughed as he grabbed the penis- awkward and out of place dangling between her legs. Aubrey winced as Wolf Trousers turned his back and walked out of the tent confronting the icy tundra. A deafening silence flooded into the room as the door flapped shut, thickening with each breath and threatening to choke her. She was aware of her golden, messed locks of hair dreading beneath spit in her mouth. Even more, she was aware of the warmth streaming in small springs down her cheeks to the sides of her face– and yet, she felt nothing… heard nothing… said nothing. When had she stopped feeling, she wondered? Had she ever felt at all?


***This is the beginning excerpt of one of my novels,  Aubrey. The picture is also an original concept sketch of her. Please let me know… is this put too profanely? I suppose I don’t write about things this graphic often so I’d love some feedback 🙂 ***