Tag Archives: drabble

Counting Down From Seven

boardwalk

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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How did I get to be so old? No, don’t answer that. Maybe I’ll just sit on a bench here on the pier. That’s better. Only us retirees out on a Wednesday. What time is it? Says nearly 9:15 a.m. on this funky handheld the alien gave me.

Well, he said he was an alien. Looked human to me when he accosted me in the Safeway parking lot last week. Countdown says seven minutes as of now. I wonder if I should have warned someone like he said? Too late now. Asteroid’s going to hit dead center of this pier.

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The Word

room

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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Griffith had been searching for the last syllable, the last few letters of The Word for twenty centuries. It was rather anti-climactic that he should find it on a cheap bookshelf in this hovel.

He ran a grateful finger over the binding of the black tome on the lower shelf. The spine contained a letter only he could read. Once he assembled The Word and spoke it, a peace beyond all understanding would encompass the globe.

A sound from the doorway. “You have led Legion on a merry chase, Griffith. Or is it that we let you bring us here?”

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Dinnertime

farm

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Sam grasped the fence post as nausea doubled him over. The throb on this right side spread around to his back. He wondered just how long seventy years of debauchery would take to kill him.

“Can’t be.” He tried to shake off his headache and clear his vision. “It is. But it can’t be. They’ve been dead for over 50 years. The old farm was sold at auction. It’s a damned subdivision now.”

Grandma stepped out of the barn and waved at him. “Sammy. Dinner’s about ready. Come on home.”

The twelve-year old boy scrambled down the path toward Heaven.

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Not a Good Place to Die

susan

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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I’ve been looking for a good place to die but this isn’t it. Just some French town, another bunch of tourists, and pigeons shitting all over the street.

At least it’s warmer here than the last place I showed up. I don’t have a lot of control over what part of the planet I land or how long I stay. Sometimes nothing happens, and sometimes there’s an adventure or whatever you want to call it.

But I’m tired of the world and I want a final resting place. This isn’t it, so I guess I’ll stop by the macaron shop.

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Night Justice

muddy waters

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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They dragged her into the dank forest, foul water and mud clinging to her.

“You still believe that advocating for genocide is a matter of context?”

“There’s a difference between allowing hateful speech and advocating for the act of genocide.” She remained smug even as a prisoner.

He sneered. “There is no redemption for you. For the rest of your life, each night there is only the dream. Step beyond those trees. Tonight, you are Jüdin. The next, Nazi. Go.”

The woman slogged through the mud trembling with cold. There was a clearing beyond the trees and a sign. Auschwitz.

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The Times They Are A-Changin’

the ball

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Trevor shivered in the cold wind as he made his way up W 45th street toward Times Square.

It had worked. Bobby Kennedy had originally supported his brother’s plan to bomb the Cuban missile sites. Fortunately, Trevor Ross was a historian and a time traveler. He blackmailed Bobby the same way Hoover had. Then something went wrong.

Yes, Kennedy had his secret meetings with the Soviet ambassador. However, what happened between them not only averted 1962’s Cuban missile crisis, but had changed everything when Trevor returned to 1980. How had New York City become the capitol of a Communist America?

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Does Santa Claus Climb Down Broken Chimneys?

abandoned

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

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“Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child, Holy Infant so tender and mild…”

Derek crouched by the fire barrel rubbing his hands together while Anna sang Christmas songs to her little girls.

“Another homeless fucking Christmas,” he muttered.

Old Saul backhanded him on the shoulder. “Hush and let those babies dream.”

“It’s all crap,” Derek hissed back. “There’s no blessing being homeless. Fifteen families freezing in this dump. No baby Jesus will save us.”

“You’re young yet, Derek.” Saul’s voice ground like a cement mixer. “Miracles aren’t money. Look around you. Being able to love in this hole is the miracle.”

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One Winter Evening

candles

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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Soren basked in the candles’ glow as he had for so many years during this season. He neither celebrated the Hanukah lights nor the birth of the “Light of the World,” mercy forbid.

The presentation “Artwork by Candlelight” was a centuries old family tradition and he must leave soon. Explaining his presence would be awkward.

“Hello.”

He turned to the doorway. She couldn’t be more than five. “You are Daphine, the Baron’s granddaughter.”

“Who are you?”

He stared, considering a light snack, but then declined. The vampire came to honor his family’s legacy, not to dine on a distant cousin.

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My SciFi Drabble “Hunter” is Available at “Martian Magazine”

martian

Screenshot of Martian Magazine web page.

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Martian Magazine publishes science fiction drabbles every Monday and Friday. I somehow missed that one of my drabbles was going to be coming out on Monday, November 30th.

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The Old Shoe

shoes

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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Alan sat in the laundry contemplating the last moments of his life. It was cold outside, and not just because of the weather.

You see things differently sitting on the floor. All these different types of footwear, all for different occasions and seasons.

They cut off his job, his finances, his friends, family, even his electric car. The people of diversity and acceptance were going to kill him because he didn’t fit in with their politics and dogma.

The door from outside opened. It was Brevoort. “Still time to join us before the end.”

Alan threw a shoe at him.

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