Tag Archives: drabble

The Girl in the Macramé Bikini

macrame

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

“This will be fun, Grandpa,” said his youngest granddaughter. At fourteen, she was as full of silliness as when she was four.

“I’m seventy-one, not seventeen. What do I care for glow-in-the-dark strip and macramé parties?” the old man groused. “This is worse than Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Relax into it,” said his oldest grandson. “It won’t be so bad. Besides, the pizza here’s pretty good.”

“Well, maybe for a little bit,” Grandpa said.

“We have a surprise, Grandpa,” said one of the middle granddaughters.

Then they brought out the blond stripper in the glow-in-the-dark macramé.

“At my age?” he groaned.

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The Long Winter is Coming

volcano

PHOTO PROMPT © Ken Arnopole

“Daddy, do you think Mommy’s okay?”

My six-year-old daughter asked me the question I didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said. We were watching the news on my phone. “Boise was outside the Yellowstone super volcano’s blast radius…”

“So, she’s alright?”

“Maybe. But the volcano will get everyone else.”

“What?”

“You know how the sky is always gray and we have to stay inside so we don’t breathe the ashes? That’s spreading around the world blocking the sun. Pretty soon, it’s going to be winter everywhere.

“Can we go home soon, Daddy? I’m don’t like Boston anymore.”

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Every 30th of May

brooklyn bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

She always manifested first for her life was the cause. Mist rose under the Brooklyn Bridge that May 30th as the twelve appeared. The people who were present either were unable to perceive them through a lack of faith or chose to ignore what they considered the impossible.

After all this time, those few who could see them but didn’t know what they were thought them to be performers in some macabre cosplay. When they tried to approach any of them, they wavered and vanished. The ghosts of the bridge’s tragic past were sentinels and did not speak cautionary tales.

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Time Lord Pranks

telephone box

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The Time Lord approached the disguised TARDIS from around the corner and stopped suddenly. He was accustomed to the inexplicable, but this sight rendered his mouth agape.

“I clearly recall you being in pristine condition when I left here to pursue that elusive rogue.”

He looked about, but a crimson telephone box containing multiple trays of flora punctuated by a pigeon cooing on the top layer hadn’t yet attracted attention. This was somewhat peculiar for London.

“Very well, then,” he said reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “One sonic screwdriver to the rescue. Then we’ll deal with this pesky Doctor.”

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I Just Came Back For The Garden

plants

PHOTO PROMPT © Nancy Richy

It was a unique but familiar waiting room. The windows overlooked a small atrium that seemed more like a backyard. The flora extended indoors and plants that I remembered as sprouts were fairly dominant vines encroaching upon plush, gray chairs.

“Mr. Müller will see you now.” The receptionist was new, young, and I couldn’t help thinking she resembled a brunette Barbie doll.

I walked into the ridiculously large office. “Vance, it’s been a long time.”

He gave me his CEO smile. “I’m glad you came. I know you’re retired, but…”

“Sure. Kids today don’t know how to tend a garden.”

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In the Future, Bulls Have Goofy Colored Horns

classroom

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

“We can only stay a few minutes. Give me your impressions about this room,” said Professor Clark.

Twelve-year-old Jimmy was disappointed. He thought going fifty-four years into the future would be about flying cars and Moon bases.

“Well, Sir, I guess this is some kind of school. The games and paints look familiar.”

He kept scanning the classroom. “I have no idea about WiFi or PW. The Labels poster is probably not talking about soup. What the heck is a Terf and why does the bull have goofy colored horns?”

“I forgot,” said Clark. “In 2020, everyone wears masks. Here.”

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The Return

dale red

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

It was too late, so Jeff pulled over and turned off the engine. The effect looked like giant spider legs describing impossible angles across a burning sky, but that wasn’t it at all.

He tried to pray, but everything from guilt to blind fear kept his thoughts away from God. His wife and two children would face this all alone, not that he could have comforted them.

Even though everyone had heard, almost no one believed, so they would blame this on something like solar flares or climate change. The truth was more terrifying and awesome. He was coming back.

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Going Home To Mother

Crook tree moon

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The full moon and late winter made her heart beat fast as she looked up from the pit. She had been with her husband for the long darkness and cold, and while she reigned with him as Queen, the honor always grew tiresome, even loathsome by now.

Soon she would see mother again and like the rest of the world bask in the warmth of each rising dawn when Spring brought new life to the wicked and wise alike.

She made the usual preparations and bade her husband farewell for another season and then two. Persephone began her ascent home.

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Seeing Better

rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

When Benedict looked outside that morning, he thought it had rained and drops had speckled the window. But then he turned away and saw everything else looked that way. He checked, but he hadn’t put on his glasses yet. When he did, it didn’t help.

He was about to ask his wife what she thought it was, and then sadly remembered she had passed away two years ago last Tuesday.

He thought to call his doctor, but the effect was getting worse. Then he realized he wasn’t going blind, but only seeing the other side better. “I’m coming home, Marge.”

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You Are What You Eat

fast food

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Harold sat in the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The doctor’s visit was more than disappointing. Doc called the pharmacy so that numerous prescriptions would be filled and waiting when he got there.

He looked down at the pile of trash on the car’s floorboards and then his expansive gut.

“You are what you eat,” he muttered. “Bloody blood sugar.”

He wanted to cry but instead he put the key in the ignition and started his car.

“This won’t beat me. I won’t die a fat slob choking down a bunch of pills. I must join a gym immediately.”

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