Drabblewrimo 2021

[Cloo]

Treaty

All of Scyraa knew by now that their opponent’s capital, Tethon, was starving and beset by the dark spot fever. Exhausted, King Irett signed the document; the gates of Tethon would be opened, and its fabled treasuries too.

The Scyraan army under Queen Tiru entered in triumph - there was the mass of the Ancient Keep, the polished jade domes of the High Temple, but where were the people? Even starving and sickened there must be some? Irett locked the gates behind them and looked upon the strange glow of the ancient script of the other treaty; the debt with Them would now be repaid.

 

[sojourner]

Love it Cloo . How did you choose the proper nouns?

 

[sojourner]

Day 10 – Treaty

As a consequence of war, the bones of the world were scattered across the globe. From Headexico to Necklavia, Thighrobi to Ankleland and beyond, the Skeleton diaspora was unable to defend itself, battle effectively, provide sustenance, or care for its cohort, so it decided to negotiate a treaty.

Working from the premise of the ancient canticle ‘Dem Dry Bones’, they formed a coherent and cohesive framework, which was subsequently fleshed out and approved by all parties.

Thus ratified, the diaspora united. Under the Republic of Esqueleto, mass housing, farming, and physical education projects began, and war declared against its enemies.

 

[Cloo]

Love it Cloo . How did you choose the proper nouns?

Just sort of popped into my head, I was thinking vaguely Greek sounding. I'm reading a fantasy war/rebellion novel at the moment set in a sort of imperialistic 18th-cetury-ish Europe-occupying-North-Africa setting at the moment, so this sort of thing is on my mind I guess

 

[sojourner]

Just sort of popped into my head, I was thinking vaguely Greek sounding. I'm reading a fantasy war/rebellion novel at the moment set in a sort of imperialistic 18th-cetury-ish Europe-occupying-North-Africa setting at the moment, so this sort of thing is on my mind I guess

I always get tied up in knots when I start trying to think of proper nouns. I always feel they have to be meaningful, rather than random. So then I spend fucking hours trying to think up meaningful ones

 

[sojourner]

Day 11 – Entertainment

It’s not that Boris didn’t enjoy the Friday night burlesque sessions, but he did wish the glue on those nipple tassels didn’t keep melting in the heat of the crowded Parliamentary bar. It was a real buzz killer when, mid-swing, one would fly off and hit someone in the eye. He wouldn’t mind, but the job lot of shoddy glue had been sourced from Matt’s old school chum. Same old same old.

Sleazy saxophone began a familiar tune, as Tory donors whooped and cheered.

With a resigned air, he reached for the tassel and glue, and grasped his right breast.

 

[Cloo]

Entertainment

It had been a good life, not bad for a yidishe boy from Brooklyn. Now here he was in the home, as they often reminded him, an alter kaker, as he often reminded himself.

Still, he knew how to put on a good show and once in a while they’d let him get up on the little platform to give an ‘Eddie Special’. He would joke that he probably told the same jokes last time, but who was to know?

That Saturday as the mic fell from his hand, he realised with the slightest smile that for the first time, he'd died on stage.

 

[krtek a houby]

Day 12

Grief

The quarry was wreathed in mist. So many visits to similar vistas. Ghosts of trusted companions and shells of old foes, were scattered throughout the cosmos. Somwhere out there, it was November again. Time over great distances lost meaning. The traveller had vast reserves of memory, but who would come after?

The small and battered vehicle, in which they traversed the stetches of existence, was silent and still.

It was the end. The greatest of enemies, the ever present, past and future threat of death was never quite who you thought it was. Never far away, the ratings were waiting.

 

[Cloo]

Grief

Estelle hired the van, she’d enlisted her brother-in-law and his teenage son. They still didn’t know why - he was old, sure, but in good health, he’d never been depressed as far as anyone could tell.

Thirty miles away, Doreen lit three candles for the girls. She knew everyone else had forgotten but she never would, even though it had been 50 years since Maeve and her friends had vanished ‘as if into thin air’. No leads.

‘Here, what’re these?’ shouted Estelle’s nephew, from the attic. They poked their heads in and he was pointing to three large, wrapped bundles.

 

[sojourner]

Day 12 – Grief

No one could believe that our sun was really gone.
Was it us? Something that we did, or hadn’t done?
We felt numb. Then rage
against the dying of the light.
Facing endless night we tried to conjure it with candlelight,
but tallow only goes a certain way and that’s down.
We fell to the ground in despair
where we stayed, thinking
morning wouldn’t come
so we’d better make the best of it.
Picked ourselves up, dusted down the dark.
Then a spark, a streak, an orange blue hue began to glow
and hope renewed
for a new day’s dawn.

 

[krtek a houby]

Day 13

Penumbra

The few photographs she appeared in, were often out of focus, or someone would be standing in front of her. Occasionally she would be relegated to a corner.

This happened throughout her life. It wasn’t a case of people purposely ignoring her or leaving her out of the frame deliberately. Her family and friends liked her, or rather, they tolerated her existence. As you would a grey day or two. She always kept in contact. She never outstayed her welcome at the few parties she found herself invited to.

The dull and cloudy weekend she passed no pictures were taken.

 

[scifisam]

Aw, that's beautiful melancholy, krtek.

 

[scifisam]

I've cheated. This is 200 words and can't really be changed, but I like it, so I've decided it counts for both "penumbra" and "grief." (At least it's exactly 200 words...)



Sarah was so young when grief first came to her that she didn't know what to do with it. So she turned it into a dog.

Not an ominous Churchillian black dog of depression, but a cute little piebald beagle. Some days he was a lively puppy, bouncing and playful, others an old hound snoring before the fire. But he was always there somewhere.

Occasionally she wished he wasn't - I mean, other people didn't have one, as far as she knew. But by then she was too used to him.

Grief wasn't the only thing that came early to Sarah. She raced through life like a downhill train with the brakes off, experiences flashing past like lampposts.

Love, however, strolled in late. And it derailed her. Oh, she realised, those love songs, they're all true.

And suddenly her grief was gone.

Sarah retreated into herself, searching for him. It wasn't just that he was familiar - losing him meant losing all that had made him.

After days of calling, finally she heard a bark. She turned, and her grief bounded into her arms.

Her tears wet his fur as, for the first time in her life, her grief made her cry.

 

[Cloo]

Penumbra

The clock ticked. She knew this would take time but Oh God, couldn’t the clock shut up? All the time, the gloom, the voice, telling her ‘It’s been too long, there’s been a problem’. It seeming way too dark for a day in June. His half smile before he went in, went under. Everything around her was grey, the corridor stretching endlessly, breathing slowly, but she couldn’t move, someone might come out.

At last a click and the door moved, there was the surgeon - flushed but smiling. And colours crept back into the space like paint swirls through water.

 

[sojourner]

Day 13 - Penumbra

He hadn’t always felt this way. At first he’d been positively glowing about it all, full of bright ideas and bold ambition, but as time slowly passed, he’d slumped further and further into the gloom.

It was the kids he felt sorry for. They must be able to tell. Being in such close proximity, sharing their innermost dreams, and him being all hollow and joyless with the conventional assurances. Well, they’re not daft, are they?

His staff despised him too. He’d had to let some of them go, which did nothing for morale.

He’d best get on.

“Dancer! Prancer! Rudolph!”

 

[krtek a houby]

Day 14

Juxtaposition

The cat rulers promised dignity, change, equality and importantly, more food. They lied, as their predecessors had. The unhappy, hungry birds accepted the falsehoods and broken promises, because that’s what was expected of them.

Then the dog kings arrived promising pride, vengeance and importantly, more food. They too, did not deliver. This time, some of the birds called it freedom. They would defend their freedom with pride and vengeance.

Birds turned on birds because feathers were different. They turned on each other because of fear. They turned on memory because they did not trust it. Finally, they turned on reality.

 

[scifisam]

Day 14, Juxtaposition

In Southwark, where the city ends
A tiny tenament still stands
Supported like a drunkard by its friends
Four storeys tall and two men wide
Its windows small, as if to hide
The bishop's whores who worked inside

Below the streets, the new cathedral
Broods, Victorian and regal
The Bishop, standing neath his eagle
Does not deny that history;
The windows burnish Bardolatry
The priests pimp only pageantry


The Shard, proud self-named splinter, rises over these scraps of history
Its rainbow windows shine, and reflect the city - does that portend
That secret love can cease to hide? Let us pretend...

 

[xenon]

8. Absent.

That lazy bastard, we all had a skin full last night, I feel rough as fuck but he's shied off, the twat.

Pull up here, we can't get any further down. I'll grab the tools.

Wait, where's the cordon, cones?

There's nothing here. Bollocks, we must be in the wrong place. Corner of Lancaster and Vale right?

Yep, course. It's marked on the plan and on the worksheet.

Do you reckon he just did fuck all yesterday?

Can't have done, I saw him back in the yard, all covered in shit. Normal, like.

There's literally nothing though, not a divot out of place... How the fuck do you lose a hole.

 

[sojourner]

These are all brilliant, I'm really enjoying them all. So much variety and creativity and fun!!

 

[sojourner]

Day 14 - Juxtaposition

Did anyone check if it was English or French?
How did it defy the laws of gravity?
Could have been a Twenty Ounce Pippin I suppose.
And look at those leaves. Crinkly fresh
against charcoal felt.
The tie is red. Must be a commie.
Some say he’s Jesus but I can’t see Jesus
at the seaside. Not in that coat anyway.

No one understands, or laughs at the levity.
Don’t know why I bother.
They only ever want to see his full-fat face.
My face.
My smile
or not.
Both eyes.
But I like to keep them hidden in
/visible.

 

[Cloo]

Juxtaposition

Fewer regulars at ‘The Margate Steamer’ every year - those lucky enough to get a council place after the estate was sold off were mostly moved out to Essex or Kent; Derek had only heard of three families getting a place on site after it turned out ‘400 affordable units’ meant ‘80 social units’ instead of the 300 council flats there had been before.

As he locked up that night he paused with one hand on the door and his other turning over the agent’s card in the cold light leaking from the frozen waves of glass towers gathered around the Steamer.

 

[krtek a houby]

Day 15

Petal

It lays inert, preserved in the pages of a cheap adventure pulp from seventy years ago. What must the hard-boiled detective think, nestling his whisky, neat? He’s taking five after lifting the pimp who smacked the broad who stiffed the john who tried to smack another dame. The pimp gave him a bunch of fives but folded after the dick served up a knuckle sandwich.

The remnant of the real world lies fragile on fragile leaves with faded print and faded machismo.

Who has bookmarked the detective’s downtime with a dahlia petal? What colour had it been? The mystery continues.

 

[sojourner]

What would James Ellroy think of that krtek a houby ?! Nice one.

 

[Cloo]

Petal

They had taken her when she was young, planted her in another ‘home’ another soil, a skivvy, sometimes worse, the sneering name they gave her meant ‘Petal’ in their language, to tell her she was broken, crushed.

It took years, but Petal escaped - she had a mouth on her, she could get respect. She found other petals, grown in the manure of bitterness, of subjugation. Petal always said they gave eachother something to live for, but the others said it was always her, the central stem of their cause.

And those flowers grew to be the most feared rebels in the Empire.

 

[sojourner]

Day 15 – Petal

She made her own pot-pourri. It was much nicer than that overpriced tat from The Range.

Every batch held a special significance, her way of remembering the dead. She attended a lot of funerals these days. Well, you do as you get older, don’t you? And no one really minded her taking a few petals from each wreath.

She put the sweet-scented bowls in her parlour, where she kept all her other precious little knick-knacks. Dentures, wedding rings, a shirt button, a lock of hair, and vellum envelopes containing every filthy ‘dick pic’ they’d ever sent to this respectable widow.

 

[krtek a houby]

What would James Ellroy think of that krtek a houby ?! Nice one.

That's very kind of you. Not sure have ever read one of his novels, mind!

 

[sojourner]

That's very kind of you. Not sure have ever read one of his novels, mind!

You've heard of the Black Dahlia book though, right? If not, that is a HUGE coincidence!

 

[krtek a houby]

You've heard of the Black Dahlia book though, right? If not, that is a HUGE coincidence!

Oh, for sure

 

[Cloo]

Fantasy

Katie had him by his stupid ugly tie. Neil’s watery eyes were wide with terror and pain as her heel bit down harder into his thigh ‘Got a good enough view of them now?!’ she yelled, thrusting her chest at his sweating face, pulling the knife out of her belt and then stepping back to take down his trousers. ‘No…’ he whimpered, ‘...no!’

‘No thanks sweetie, I know that bringing me my coffee is your favourite part of the day, Katie love, but not right now,’ Neil waved her off out of his office.

Maybe if she got the knife she could start working on it...

 

[sojourner]

Day 16 – Fantasy

She loved fantasy lit. All magical faraway worlds, quests, and mega-breasts forced into spiky metal bras. The names were fabulous too. Her alter ego was called Nyra Diamondnipple. Indulgent and escapist, it was like a little mental holiday.

So it was lucky, really, that one of her most generous clients was actually a fantasy writer.

Bit of a disappointment though, in reality. He’d turn up, she’d be all dressed to the nines, open the door to her large built-in wardrobe, he’d step in, and that would be it for three hours.

Easiest money she’d ever made though, to be honest.