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Drabble Fever... Share yours and your comments.
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T4bsF (Call me Flo)
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Jan 02, 2016 12:48PM
You can't make Drabbles shorter Frenchie - or they won't be Drabbles...... they have to be 100 words - no longer and no shorter...... and they are most definitely not always "sweet"....... some are quite dark and frightening.
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.......only teasing Frenchie - I know your phraseology gets a bit tangled sometimes. :-)
Dark or light I dribble when I drabble, therefore I wear a bib
he was lucky he didn't end up as roast duckling
Nowt wrong with a bit of roast duckling, man is a omnivore even his teeth show he is not designed for just vegetables. But it is your story so we will go with what you desire.
I see your paper heart brings joy to all floating gently on the summer breeze. Folded into a paper boat gently riding the currents of the little stream. Sending notes of sweet nothings to the ears of those who need it most. With such a heart you can accomplish anything.Love the drabble.
You and me both Frechie, I haven't written anything meaningful or other wise in over a year now.
Oh the pangs of a chance lost, or is it a promise of things to come to give the heart a sudden rush of euphoria at the sight of beauty never seen before. Is this a taste of what is or what was or what shall yet to be.
I see the innocence of youth running through this piece it a very touching drabble, and as you said it's sweet...
Yes all is well here Frenchie, thanks for asking and how are you and yours ?
Far awayIn a land far away I live many ages all at the same time, I can see my first day at school my last day in the military. I see all the houses I have bought all the arguments I have had. All my pain and love show up here.
Sometimes I am me and others not, I have lived many lives here some are mine and some are not. Every book is here for the taking no matter the language I can read it. I am here but I am not in a land far away but not.
Frenchie, again another though provoking piece, it reminds me in away of my grandmother reminiscing on a summers day in her garden. ( Unfortunately she was also suffering from dementia and thought I was my her brother.) She passed away a quarter a century ago not knowing anyone but having lovely memories, at least she still had those.
With Soft word and a gentle loving hand, I put the mare at ease. Slowly running my hand gently down her flank treating her like she is the most important creature in the world. She is She is the wild mare who will not submit to just anyone. She is looking for the right man who understands what she needs and is willing to take the time and care enough to give it to her. With gentle words whispered in her twitching ear and soft loving strokes he relaxes her and puts her at ease then slowly he mounts her. He does it with care not putting all his weight on her right away, knowing if he does she will buck and bolt off. Before she knows it he is full mounted and she trusts him she will not throw him, he allows her to take him where she will....
Frenchie wrote: "Haha my dear, you would be a good horse whisperer.."......or Unicorn whisperer!!
I prefer the ones that wear the stripe pajamas...
Nah!! They just make you cross!! (boom, boom)
I know maybe I will train Hippogriffs for a living, does anyone know where I can find the nearest Hippogriff farm?
Certainly - turn left at midnight and keep straight on til morning!!!
No that's Neverland or is that the first star on the right. No that was Star Trek oh I am all confused now to many star directions.
To celebrate Valentine's Day here's one of my favourite drabbles (a 100 word story) that suits the occasion :-)
A Marriage Made In...
Hell. You know the place. Lakes of burning sulphur. Torture pits filled with the wailing of the damned. Not the place you'd expect to fall in love. But I did.
Our eyes met across the inferno. It was love at first sight, or at least first scream. The demons didn't approve at first, they tried to quench our love with fire and brimstone.
We endured and in the end they came round.
Lucifer himself even officiated at our wedding. Love, honour and obey, two of those things are welcome here.
But 'till death do us part could be a problem.
-
You can discover some of my other drabbles here:
http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/1...
A drabble is but a dribble, a slow trickle of words leaking out into the puddle of a story.
A new drabble of mine has been posted in the Book Hippo daily newsletter - check out the daily Kindle bargains here: bookhippo.ukYou can check out some of my other drabbles here:
http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/1...
The Thing With No Name
What a power it is to name a thing. With a simple word or phrase, you identify it and so can know its nature and divine its purpose.
What then when you encounter something that has no name? More than that, it can have no name.
To look at it is to feel a twist in your sanity and compounding your terror. You don’t know that it is a thing at all, only that this isn’t something you can flee from, fight, or bargain with.
What do you do when all that you know is that it must be endured?
if the plant had no name would it still smell as sweet? If the feeling had no name would it still make us weak at the knees and hurt us the way it does? And if that were true what would you call them or would you not recognize them for what they were?
Here's a new drabble (100 word story) from me:
Painting by William Sadler II - Pyms Gallery, Public Domain
The Charge
Hooves pounded the frost hardened ground, laboured breath steamed through the air. The array of red clad infantry fired and instantly wreathed in smoke. Bullets whistled passed my ears. A horse screamed and collapsed, its rider flung afar.
Another volley crashed against us, but we’re almost there. A cannon booms, dirt and smoke choked my mouth. I heard the enemy’s cries now and saw their dirt streaked faces. My mount’s hooves smashed into skull and with a slash of the sabre we broke through the first rank.
Only to see another line of red and another volley of rifle fire.
You can discover some of my other drabbles here:
http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/1...
Posted on BookHippo.uk earlier:
Awakening
The rank stench of decay pervades the shifting mist. I glimpse vague forms, their movement creeping ever closer. Loathsome whispers torment my hearing with a hunger eager for satisfaction. Terror chokes me into silence, my scream a lump in my throat.
For the briefest moment their majestic horror is revealed. I behold creatures ancient while our universe was still young. The scream inside bursts free…
In a panic I awaken, sweat clammy on my skin. The relief is orgasmic as the fear fades. It returns in a heartbeat with the smell of corruption, and a shadow moves in the gloom.
Check out some of my other drabbles here: http://thecultofme.blogspot.co.uk/p/1...
