A New Ending, Nay, Beginning (< 200 Words)

Good drabbles are difficult to come by – here’s another one. This is EagleAye responding to a picture prompt from here.

Includes a political sounding statement from the author that has not been edited. Note this blogger claims no familiarity with the subject to comment.

Raul was fishing off the Portuguese coast when he found her. Thalassa climbed into his boat as he hauled on the nets. The mermaid was lovely. Beneath her sea green hair were two huge, enticing, glistening…green eyes.

Thalassa told him of the wondrous castles below with lovely gardens. All the creatures lived in fairness and equality. She spoke for hours of the wonders of the deep.

“Your world seems beautiful,” said Raul.

“So is yours!” grinned Thalassa.

“How do you know about it?”

She held up a waterproof cell phone. “YouTube!”

Raul covered his eyes.

“I’ve fallen in love with you!” exclaimed Thalassa. “Don’t worry, I know how the story ends. I sacrifice my home, grow legs, and live with you!”

“Uh….,” hesitated Raul.

“Tell me more about your…my, new home! Isn’t it fabulous?”

Unemployment soared. Violent nationalism and racism spun out of control. The soon-to-be-elected populous president would likely deport Raul’s ailing Sudanese father, and otherwise wreck the country.

Raul sighed, “How about a new ending? Any chance I could grow a tail?”

End

Source: Original post here.

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More Tiny Tales (Drabbles)

drabble  (Wiki) is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author’s ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space.

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Darkness

By G. Allen Willbanks from The Drabble:

“Why are you afraid of the dark? Darkness is the natural state of everything. It’s the light that’s unnatural. When God said, ‘Let there be light,’ he was imposing an artificial reality on a universe that had previously only know known total darkness and emptiness, and every force in nature is currently trying to drive us back to that original point of neutrality. Everything around us is temporary, and at some point in the future we will all return to that initial state of nothingness. It’s inevitable.”

“Maybe,” his wife admitted. “But, I still want you to replace the light-bulb.”

           
G. Allen Wilbanks is a member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and has published over 60 short stories in Deep Magic, Daily Science Fiction, The Talisman, and other venues. He has published two story collections, and the novel, When Darkness Comes.

**

Tucked In (98)


By Will Gilmer from The Drabble:

“Irrational fear is a luxury,” Youssef thought as workers at the refugee orphanage checked under beds and rummaged through the closets of the other children. Each received a smile and a thumbs up signaling that their area was free of ghouls and goblins.

Back home Youssef’s nightmares never had time for make-believe. The realities of famine and war didn’t leave room for Bogeymen.

“Any monsters hiding under your bed Youssef?”

Youssef shook his head and pointed to the window. The confused worker craned her head to the stars, never guessing that when Youssef dreamed, he dreamed of drones.

         
William Gilmer is a writer and poet living in Michigan where Fall never lasts long enough.

**

Going Home (70)

By Traci Mullins from The Drabble:

Dottie wheeled her small pink suitcase to the double doors and waited.

A smiling woman approached and asked where she was going.

“Home,” Dottie answered.

“I think you’re early for the bus,” the nice woman said. “I’ll show you where you can sit comfortably until it gets here.”

Dottie thanked her and followed her down the hallway, back to her room at Sunset Memory Care, as she did every morning.

“I once heard that a tiny story is like a work of art on a grain of rice. I’m enticed by the challenge to give readers a meaningful experience in a tiny package.” – the author.

**

A Woman’s Will

By S. H. Cheatham from 101 Words:

“No!” She tossed her blonde hair and marched angrily away, the clop clopof heels on wood telegraphing her fury.

You’d think I’d asked her to torture puppies or renounce chocolate forever, when I had simply suggested—very kindly—that she change into something slightly less revealing for dinner with my boss and her husband. And perhaps remove a bit of the lipstick and eye shadow she must have applied with a spackling trowel.

“Honey,” I said, tapping tentatively. The response was a thunk as an unknown object (shoe? hairbrush?) struck the bedroom door.

Such is life when mothering a three-year-old!

**

End

Until Death Parted Us?? A Horror Story (600+ Words)

She was reported missing by her husband a week ago.

The police machinery set in motion had no concrete information yet.

The husband was also questioned on rumors of marital discord.

That’s where it stalled.

He was sure there was some foul play in his sister’s disappearance. Asking around, he got nothing to go by. Yes, there were the usual domestic squabbles from time to time heard by the neighbors. But that was about all.

His friend took him to consult a baba known to have powers of vision.

The baba heard them out and said: ‘Unfortunately, I’ve expended all my tantric/yogis power. Not until the next full-moon day that is about three weeks away from now…’

Pressed by the friend to do something here and now, the baba went into a trance, promising to do his best.

Coming out of trance some ten minutes later, the baba was panting for breath and profusely sweating. The two visitors felt guilty of putting the baba to trouble and stood aside nervously heads down. The baba called them near and said: ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t muster enough power to have a clear vision…I had warned you…All I could hazily see was a patch in front of a rose bush in what appeared to be a backyard of a house.’

He understood – the spot in front of the rose bush in the backyard of her house was his sister’s favorite place. Often she would sit there, read books, play with her dog or simply lie down looking at the sky.

He went to the police and raised a ruckus over their inaction so far. With great apprehension and reluctance, more to appease him and buy more time, they agreed to act on the baba’s input, quite at the risk of exposing themselves to ridicule for taking a mere baba’s word seriously.

It wasn’t easy either to get their way with the husband. Despite his protestations, finally they managed to dig up the patch on the yard where the soil did look disturbed.  

At two feet of depth they struck pay-dirt.

All hands went up to their noses as the overpowering stench of decaying flesh bubbled up.

In there was a dog’s body, its upper torso revealed clear off the soil. It was his sister’s, marked by the distinctive strap around the neck.

She had loved the dog like her own child – they had none of their own.

The husband was ready for it – he explained: after his wife went missing, the dog was inconsolable try hard as he might. Went without food or water. He even took it to a vet – they could check it out, his medication to no avail. It would go and lie down on the patch and not move in even in the cold nights. Two days ago it was found dead in the morning. The poor thing was buried at its favorite spot. That’s how it came to be where it was found.

He looked dazed, sat down on the ground disheartened hands on his head. It was back to square one. No doubt the baba had ‘seen’ – but it was not good enough. Now what next…

The police officer in-charge shook his head in dismay and, cursing himself under his breath, ordered the men to refill the hole on the ground, his mind racing to find a way to mollify the irate husband.

Thump…thump…It stopped as soon as it began. Commotion ensued at the hole, men inured to seeing the ghastly and gore clambering out of the hole like they were fleeing death.  Brought the officer rushing back to the scene.

Trying vainly to block the stench, the officer peered down the hole to see the dog’s body head to toe now fully cleared off the soil, his attention drawn to the lower torso where it was held in a close hug by a badly decomposed hand coming up from under.

End  

Source: Inspired by an Indian movie episode narrated to me long ago. Can’t recall which, who… Image from Masterfile

Update: M tells me the movie is Kamal Haasan’s Papanasam. Apparently the story takes a different route with no paranormal elements – only the dog remains the common piece.

Two Women In Their Graves And The Cat That Did Not Wait To Cross

This short piece is in response to flash/drabble photo-challenge posed here by Morgan Bailey.

He locked up the doors. One can’t be too cautious in these matters.  The call he had received in the morning…

He hurriedly took the car out of the garage – he was already running late.

Just in case…the gun was loaded and in its place, he had checked.

It all happened quite unexpectedly just when he exited the driveway slowly, easing onto the street…the darned cat did make it safely to the other side by a whisker not coming under the wheels or hit splat.

His old lady would have ordered him to get going – auguries and omens were not for her. Steadying himself he drove on – he could ill-afford to miss the meeting from start.

Half way up the street he saw a parked car with all glasses rolled up. Now his usual alert self, he sped past the car with one hand on the gun. Nothing happened. Must be his jangled nerves playing up?

In this time, as the black piece of fur scurried away for the nearest bush, ‘sh#t,’ the hooded man cursed his luck, and abruptly dropped to the floorboard inside the parked car. To heck with…his mom was not once wrong over these ‘messages’. Was it simply not the day to pick or it was something more portentous?  Needed figuring out.

End

Now You Know Why They Tell You…

to see god in everything around you in all the life around you as in your boss, wife, children, Amazon, United, government…and in non-life too like the pothole on the road…?

They all have choices of their own:-(

buddha-53255_1280

By David Berger

This guy comes back to his apartment late one night, and there’s a golden statue of a god he doesn’t recognize in his living room.

“What the hell?” he says.

“Hell is a state of mind,” the statue says.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he asks.

“You want me to be elsewhere?” the statue asks.

“I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice,”

“Can I choose you to be elsewhere?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. I choose you to be elsewhere.”

The statue stays where it is.

“What happened?” he asks.

The statue shrugs its shoulders. “We all have choices.”

         
David Berger is a self-described “old guy from Brooklyn, now living in Manhattan with my wife of 25 years: the best jazz singer in NYC. I’m a father and grandfather. I’ve been, among other things, a case worker, construction worker, letter carrier, high school and ESL…

View original post 22 more words

Carriers (101 Words)

They filed down Main Street, stone-faced, pitiful, dragging their loads resolutely behind them.

“Who are they?” I asked someone.

“Carriers,” he said. “Odd bunch. Anything that hurt them goes in those packs.”

“Anything?”

“Look for yourself.”

Their packs overflowed with knives and glass shards, snakes, and cigarette packs.

Pins.

Needles.

Books stacked several rows deep.

A whole stove top.

Guns beyond counting.

“They carry all that weight their entire lives. Weird, right?”

I thought of the photo inside my wallet: her smile and wisps of loose hair around her temples.

“No,” I replied, slowly. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

End

Source: Matt Spaetzel in 101words.org

Mind Is A Lonely Place (50+Words)

india-1427989_960_720 Pixabay

The ride to the railway station had been tiring.

Through the window she could see him hurrying away as the train pulled out slowly, puffing and panting.

Her mind, for no reason, went back to the time when she did not have the baby.

She was even ready with a name: ‘Asha’ meaning Hope.

End

 

 

 

Source: Inspired by a post in Pinterest, image from Pixabay.