A Drabble fever - share yours.

[Michael]

Nice :-)

[Suze]

I agree, nice :-))

[Justin]

I'm going to write two drabbles tonight and I'll post em here. I can't guarantee they will be great since I haven't done one yet so bare with me :)

[Suze]

You'll find we can be pretty forgiving Justin. We can also be pretty merciless at times :-))

[mrbooks]

Wow merciless, I'm thankful lucky I got the forgiving side of you Suze.

[Suze]

mrbooks wrote: "Wow merciless, I'm thankful lucky I got the forgiving side of you Suze."

I'm well behaved and really placid these days, so the only people I'm merciless with are any who deliberately upset me. Then I turn into the Incredible Hulk :-))

[Suze]

Frenchie wrote: "Suze wrote: "Ugh, Michael. Very good though :-)) I swear you are getting more and more gory by the drabble."

And do you know what Suze? he is really enjoying himself, I can read it between the li..."

Yeah, I get that impression too. I have a vision of him laughing as he writes his drabbles. They are very good though.

[mrbooks]

Ouch you turn in to the incredible hulk, you mean you swell up and turn green... Remind me not to upset you, deliberately or otherwise.

[mrbooks]

don't know if I want to experience either...

[Suze]

mrbooks wrote: "Ouch you turn in to the incredible hulk, you mean you swell up and turn green... Remind me not to upset you, deliberately or otherwise."

It costs me a fortune in clothes, because they don't grow with me.

[Suze]

Frenchie wrote: "mrbooks wrote: "Ouch you turn in to the incredible hulk, you mean you swell up and turn green... Remind me not to upset you, deliberately or otherwise."

Bless, her bark is mightier than her bite..."

Oi you, stop giving my secrets away :-))

[Michael]

Suze wrote: "mrbooks wrote: "Ouch you turn in to the incredible hulk, you mean you swell up and turn green... Remind me not to upset you, deliberately or otherwise."

It costs me a fortune in clothes, because ..."

Buy stretchy clothes?

[Michael]

It's a lovely sunny day out there and I've bought a new suit! To celebrate this wonderful day lets take a macabre look at the next letter in our journey through the alphabet. This week's letter is 'G' and it was a tough choice until I remembered a story I was told as a child.

If you've not read the previous drabbles in this series then you can find them all here:

http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/w...

And if you're looking for more flash or short fiction to read then come and join the Facebook group dedicated to these forms:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/short...

G is for Grind

As a boy I lived near a quarry. My best friend and I played there whenever we could. We weren’t supposed to and we got into so much trouble whenever we were caught!

We didn’t stop though. Climbing the huge pile of rock was our favourite game. It wasn’t easy with the stones slipping beneath us, but the view from the summit was worth the effort.

We didn’t know that the mounds were positioned over trap doors; the rocks would pour through and be ground up into gravel.

I never played there again and Paul never played anywhere ever again.

[Suze]

Thanks Michael, rather sad this one I think.

[Michael]

Indeed - death isn't always fun :-)

[mrbooks]

Grind, ouch... in the grinder of life you would end up as coffee ground if you drop through the grinder.

But life is like the pile of rocks Michael climbed as a child, the higher you go the better the view. Unfortunately like the rocks, there are traps in life which will drop you through the mental grinder leaving you in bits on the floor.

[Suze]

I think you'd have to be dried out a bit before the ground coffee stage, or it would just be a sticky mess.

[Michael]

Yes, that one was based on a true story.

[mrbooks]

Suze, mine is based on the emotional not the physical being.

[Jonathan]

Friday the 13th, a drabble by Jonathan Hill

13.06.14

I never used to treat Friday the 13th differently. It had always brought me no less luck than any other day. ‘Oh no, Friday the 13th!’ they all used to gasp at work. What nonsense, I’d think.

This morning, I cycled to the local farm for some eggs. “There’s an extra one in there,” the farmer said with a curious smile.

“Thanks,” I replied. “A baker’s dozen!”

I hadn’t been home long before the biggest egg started to move from side to side, like a baby’s cradle but more erratic.

If anyone is reading this, please, please, help me.

[mrbooks]

LOL it looks like you will have a chicken this gives you the choice of raising it for dinner or your own source of eggs. Mind you, you will have to get a rooster...

[Kath]

Could have been a dragon. Or worse! The last line suggests horror to me - and chickens are just gorgeous. (I have three!)

[Jonathan]

I intended it to be horror!

[Kath]

... mind you, Jezebel can be a bit of a horror... ;)

[Kath]

Oh, and you don't need a rooster for eggs. Only if you want fertile ones to breed more chickens.

[Suze]

Brilliant drabble Jonathan, thank you. I reckon it's a dinosaur egg!

[Jonathan]

Thanks, Suze! It could be! It's whatever you think it is :)

[Kath]

I see foxes occasionally on the far side of the paddock behind our house. The hen-run is secure, though. It's large and has a flagstone path around it so a fox can't dig under the wire. In the day they have a larger area of garden to free-range in - as long as we're in. That's most of the time, because we're retired.

Chickens are fantastic little creatures and they each have a distinctive personality. I hate to think of them kept inside all the time.

[Michael]

A sad story, but you shouldn't feel guilty. If you had been with her you both might be dead.

[mrbooks]

Frenchie, did you ever stop to think why you chickened out, what made you to nervous to go ? Maybe you had a glimpse of what might be and it frightened you. You have no need to feel guilty, it is better for you to be here and remembering her even if it is only in sadness then it is to have not lived, to have no one remember her as she was.

Remembering her, honors her, puts her friendship with you where it belongs in your heart and mind. Go ahead and write a poem for her read it for her she would love it...

[Suze]

Frenchie, that's really sad, but you shouldn't still be feeling guilty. I agree with Michael and mrbooks, and think you should write your poem and dedicate it to your friend.
Think about it this way, if you had gone with her and died too, the world would now be short of 4 lovely children (yours), and that would be sad too.

[Michael]

Frenchie wrote: "Michael wrote: "A sad story, but you shouldn't feel guilty. If you had been with her you both might be dead."
I know, it is true. Don't know why I was thinking of her lately, a lot. :)"

There's nothing wrong with remembering :-)

[Justin]

I been meaning to write drabbles since I first found out what they were. After reading a few of them at the end of An odd Quartet by Michael Brookes I finally decided to take a crack into the world of Drabbles. Here are three I just wrote, don't be too harsh I'm still an amateur at them!

The Lone Survivor

We charged into battle on an impossible whim. Did I know we were doomed from the beginning? Pretty much, I mean I’m no prophet or psychic but I knew we were out numbered and I wasn’t going to tell the general, he had too much pride. I stood there with my rifle in my hand and as the first few shots went off I was the first hit and so was my horse. I was struck above the nose and that’s all I remember as my horse was scared off by the shots and I survived the Little Big Horn...


A Joyous Era

He put on his goggles and geared up. He then hoped into his machine and pushed the lever forward. This was really happening he thought. He had read the stories about the time period, the atmosphere, the little trinkets, it was all a way of life. As the machine landed and the door opened he was met by distinguished ladies and gentlemen. They gave him an odd look and found him to be quite peculiar and strange. As he looked around he realized they were dressed in two piece suits and exquisite gowns, this was not the right time period.


Running from the Empty

I was running for dear life. I was running on jet packs in my legs I didn’t even know I had. For this brief moment I was a cheetah, a gazelle in the wild running my brains out..or rather my feet. What was I running from you ask? A rabid pack of enraged people if that’s what you wanted to call them. They weren’t zombies, no they were well aware of what they were doing. The best way to described them is enhanced lepers with a vengeance, yeah that’s what they were. And now I’ve become one of them.

[Suze]

I like them Justin and the Lone Survivor was really good :-))

[Michael]

Always great to welcome a new drabblist :-)

[Justin]

Thank you Suze and Michael.

[Michael]

It's my mission in life :-)

[Michael]

The latest in the murder drabble series has been posted in the Indie Book Bargains newsletter (sign up to their newsletter at www.indie-book-bargains.co.uk for a daily drabble fix and the latest Kindle book bargains). If you haven't read the previous drabbles you can find the whole series here:

http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/m...

A Drabble Too Far

The need to kill became physical, more than simple desire. My waking mind tormented by the sweet images of severed throats and spilling guts. The music of screams, I yearned to hear them again, but they would be watching. Fear tempered my desire and a despairing thought reminded me of these drabbles.

These confessions of the acts I’d committed. Who had read them and who would connect them? I couldn’t stop though, they were my trophies, my memories of treasured moments. I could no more give up these drabbles than I could killing, I would need to take precautions though.

[mrbooks]

Don't let your drabble condemn you to a life of meaningless hard labor in the prison cell of your mind. Don't let it make you ride old sparky for miss spoken or written words done in haste.

[Suze]

A good creepy one, thanks Michael

[Suze]

mrbooks wrote: "Don't let your drabble condemn you to a life of meaningless hard labor in the prison cell of your mind. Don't let it make you ride old sparky for miss spoken or written words done in haste."

You could write a drabble about old sparky :-))

[Michael]

We see a bit more of the Imp's machinations in the latest Tales of the Imp drabble. If you're not familiar with drabbles then they are a story that is exactly 100 words long. You can read the previous drabbles in the series here:

http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/t...

You can also find the origin story for the Imp (and it is a more traditional short story length) in the Off the KUF anthology, you can find the book on Amazon: http://amzn.to/1fbJHXv

And now let us see what the Imp is up to...

Sharp Scratch

I shouted at the Imp. I demanded to be allowed to make my own choices. He told me that the time had arrived; I needed one more change to become ready. And God help me I asked him what that was.

He showed me a syringe, it looked huge in his tiny hand.

I could have sex that very evening if I let him inject me with his secret concoction. I immediately offered him my arm and he shook his head and pointed down below. I hesitated, but figured it would just be a sharp scratch.

How wrong I was!

[Suze]

Ouch, I've got tears in my eyes.

[mrbooks]

The Imp got you again, Alas being an Imp, he knows our weakness and our deepest desire. He twists us hither and yon with his manipulations and machinations. it started with a sharp scratch and the lights dim everything seems miles away, and I wake up in a hospital wondering what had happened I have a severe pain you can guess where, I look to see why and...

[Suze]

...I'm now a girl

Hee hee, sorry I couldn't resist.

[Kath]

One from me -

The Bag Lady

She wandered around the town centre all day and spent the nights in a doorway, wrapped in her thick old coat, insulated with newspapers. She always clutched a plastic shopping bag, never putting it down or letting it out of her sight. Her husband had disappeared years ago and she'd been evicted for defaulting on the rent. Now she was just another tramp with no home and no income other than the small change she could beg. She was barely hanging on to life and a harsh winter finished her off. In her bag they found her husband's mummified head.

[Suze]

I wasn't expecting that ending.

[mrbooks]

She took the saying two heads are better than one way to seriously.

[mrbooks]

It.

I wander the dark dismal streets searching, for what I know not, forever searching, never finding. It haunts my days and consumes my nights. I feel it pulsing through me sometimes near and some times far, can it be found in a jar? It is it but what is it, it is driving me crazy what ever it is it wont let me be, Please tell me what it is ?

[Michael]

An interesting question.