M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 83

Diary Drabble: Price

What price are we willing to pay for ignoring all the damage were doing? What value do we place on the quality of our lives? This world isnt infinite. Using all these resources to build a better world? When the resources are all gone, what do we reach for then? We taint our oceans, and pollute our skies, ignoring evidence and modeling systems predicting the storm that is coming. All to achieve our demands; well have it all. A few will, anyway. Not those of us without power. Who will pick up...

Diary Drabble: Fast

When the car speeding past them honked their horn, Vincent shrank deeper into his seat.

Theyre driving too fast, Frank said before Vincent could open his mouth. Im sticking to the speed limit.

I never said a word.

But you felt several, probably.

They made me jump. It wasnt a reflection on your driving.

Franks eyes narrowed. Vincent slid his hand into his lap and squeezed his thigh. I know youre nervous. But youre not on your own. Promise.

I know, Frank said, covering his hand. Whod have...

Diary Drabble: Fix

His heart is in his throat. If the computer girl cant fix his laptop. his entire thesis will be lost. He kept meaning to back it up, start writing with something he could access anywhere. But something always happened that would interrupt him, and then hed forget. All the source material. All the images hed stored. All the statistics carefully put into graphs to give the best representation of his findings. All could be lost because he is a clumsy idiot, who should know better than to leave a...

Diary Drabble: Pumpkin

The best place to hide in her grandmothers garden was between the long strings of beans and the pumpkin patch. Josie was just the right height to peer over the pumpkins, clutching on to one as she stretched up on tippy toes. It was a good hidey spot if she hadnt finished playing for the day, and where she could watch the neighbour pegging out clothes. She liked Mrs. Hibbard; she always looked like she was dressed for a special occasion, even when hanging out washing. Today she wore a long red...

Diary Drabble: Tissue

His skin was tissue paper thin. Red, cracked, and weeping. Often inflamed to the touch. The only relief to be found was a thick, stodgy cream that took forever to dry, and left a chalky white stain behind.

Laundry day was an adventure; would this be the week he took against the detergent that had been just fine for months? Would his freshly clean sheets suddenly need changing because his skin decided to be outraged at the softener currently clinging to the cotton?

Oh, to have normal skin...

Diary Drabble: Wound

Are you sulking?

Irwin turns his shoulders away from Amir just enough to answer in contrast to his emphatic, no. Amirs snort of laughter does nothing to improve Irwins mood.

Oh, really?

A soft kiss to the crown of Irwins head before the sofa dips beside him has Irwin looking up and trying not to smile.

Let me see your wound.

Amir draws Irwins hand into his lap, gentle thumbs either side of the gash on his palm.

Its just a papercut. A bad one.

Well need to amputate.

Are you mocking me?

Yes,...

Diary Drabble: Conglomerate

Craig worked in the finance department of an international conglomerate. Quincy made furniture from recycled materials. Craig was vegetarian, and Quincy felt cheated if his dinner included no meat. Craig was shy when dancing unless drinking, yet Quincy always first on the dancefloor. And there was love, so much love between them. A shared outlook on the world around them, and a patient ear when that world too miserable to bear alone. Happy, in every way. Which is why those who love only...

Diary Drabble: Uniform

Gary likes his work to be orderly and organised. His desk free of clutter and his to-do list checked off. Gary wouldnt even mind wearing a uniform to give him that sense of pristine efficiency hes going for. Yet at home, its as though hes a different person.

There is a sink full of dishes, and Gary cant remember the last time he changed the sheets on his unmade bed. Gary pretends not to notice the thick layer of dust covering everything as he works through the mound of laundry hes home to do....

Diary Drabble: Integrity

He speaks of integrity. Moral fiber, and honesty. One of those folks who speaks as they find, views things as plain as day. He can twist that integrity, mould it any way he sees fit so that anything that is beyond his understanding is open to persecution. His morals are intact, but his heart and soul are not.

Holding court in a pub corner, in a cubicle at work, or even on the platform at the train station, does not mean anyone is listening. Their eyes glaze over, they nod in all the right...

Diary Drabble: Stare

The moment Lukas enters the library, Dean cant help stare. Its like his senses tune into his presence knowing hes about to see Lukas before he even hears the whoosh of the sliding door.

Will we return your books?

Dean fusses over the desk as Lukas approaches with his client Nigel, mumbling thank you as Nigel slides the books across. Dean knows Lukas is Nigels carer only by accident, from the name badge emblazoned with the name of a local hospice a badge that also taught Dean his name.

Dean...