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Drabblewrimo 2021

scifisam

feck! arse! girls! drink!
There's a thing called Drabblewrimo, similar to Nanowrimo (where you try to write a novel in the month of November). Drabbles are very short stories, 100 words long, with a word as a prompt.

Does anyone fancy playing along? I've done it for three days, and doubt I'll do it every day, but I'm more likely to if more people are taking part, and it's nice to write something.

If there's any interest I'll post up my three as examples. I know Cloo's doing it already too because I found out about it via her.
 
Yes, I fancy a crack at it scifisam . Been meaning to try writing flash fiction for a while but never got round to it, and this sounds like the same sort of deal, so yeh - prompt ahoy!
 
Right, if this is day 4, and that list is correct, here's my effort.

Inside

Poppy seed, blueberry, raspberry, fig.
It’s fun to fruit! To imagine pips
as people, ponder personalities snug within these cushioned walls, cupped in muscle.
Let us bloom in unity,
listen to our twin symphonics; symbiotic privacy.
O fig, o lemon, o apple, o plum,
so many memories yet to come, to fill
our photo albums, our digital domains with silly games and selfie love.
O fig, o lemon, o apple, o plum, o lump.
Oh. Polyp.
Oh. Shit.
My mango, I have ruined it.
No melon, banana, no stupid papaya.
Uncupped, you are engulfed in blood.
Shadow. Void. Ache. Fruit-less.
 
Day one

Gem

It was a dark evening in early February, after dinner.

The kitchen was sliding into disorder again and it was Louise’s turn not to stand it anymore, so she went to the sink and started on the washing up; no bickering with them - she’d had enough of that growing up; they took turns with this stuff, it just happened. At her feet were crumbs from two nights ago, she must sweep that up. But it made her smile, to think of the cake Rochelle made with love on another dull day. Louise turned to her and said it: ‘How about we get married?'
 
Day 2

Fruit

Obviously I tried the man first, what with his ‘I’m the boss and I got rid of my uppity first wife’ thing, he wasn’t going to resist Wisdom and getting one over on The Boss Man. Felt a bit sorry for her truth be told and I was actually pretty cross when he started crowing that she was the one I sweet-talked and Him Upstairs believed Mr Favourite First Human. Of course I couldn’t say anything because He wouldn’t let me talk after that. Bloke should’ve stuck with that Lilith, she’d have kept him out of trouble.
 
Wound

‘I was just saying Denise looked nice, that’s all’
But that’s not what Alice’s mum had said. As ever, it was jab at Alice, all those little words ‘Letting yourself go’, ‘Why don’t you do that thing that that lady off the telly did?’ (whatever and whoever that referred to). Actually Alice thought she dressed very well thanks and her body was also fine, thank you very much. For a long time she hadn’t, she tried to fade into the background until she decided it was time to shine instead. She smiled, waiting for the moment to tell her mum about the modelling contract.
 
Inside

He’d done it. ‘Rabid’ Robbie McCuskey finally had everything ready after years of practice and patience while detained ‘At Her Majesty’s pleasure’; he’d coordinated the whole thing. Every detail had been checked, there were no flaws. Warden Sarah would never see it coming, he thought, smiling with satisfaction and congratulating himself. She just patrolled the corridors and dinner hall, she never came to the place where he and the others were putting it all together. He nodded to them with satisfaction as he gift-wrapped the crocheted blanket they’d made for when her baby arrived.
 
Yay, some people are interested! Sojourner, blimey, coming up with that so easily, even as a proper poet and all that's impressive.
 
Here's -my Day 1, Gem

The boy ran to the shack, shouting his news with glee.

"Grandfather, I have found a way to rid us of the cursed gem! I -"

"Boy, there is no way. To pass the gem on to another owner would be an evil act that will surely bring its own curse."

The boy repeated himself, proudly. "I have found a way! Grandfather, I have thrown the gem into the sea. It has no owner now."

The blood drained from the ancient's face. "I see what the gem wanted. Its new owner, and new curse bearer? It is all of the world."
 
Day 2: Fruit

Joe had never expected to be haunted by a banana. Being haunted hadn't been in his life plan at all, but if it had, he'd have expected something, well, human.

No. A banana.

He'd forgotten the banana, and hidden the fruit bowl behind some Weetabix, saying "tomorrow." Then he'd forgotten he was going on holiday…

Now every night he still heard the legions of flies, buzzing just out of sight, and the banana of shame joined in every dream.

His kitchen shone now, though. The banana nodded approvingly.

Joe shrugged - at least it wasn't broccoli. That might drive him mad...
 
Day 3, wound

Every tick of Harry's ancient alarm clock had once been water torture, until Joan moved it to the conservatory, where she secretly hoped the damp would break it.

Harry'd taken it around the world in his Navy days, its bell trilling at the start - or the end - of his many adventures. That was long ago now.

Joan walked to the living room, winding the clock. Old-fashioned, battered, and always slightly late, it was just like its owner. Unlike its owner, it continued marking time.

She placed the clock by their wedding photo, and sat alone, teardrops falling with each tick.
 
And here's day 4, inside.


Here is the box where you hide your dreams. It is not a thing of grandeur, bejewelled and attention-grabbing, but it is large, for your dreams are expansive. There is a lock, with a key that could open a mediaeval prison.

Most of the time you only need to know that you have the key. Opening the box is dangerous; Pandora’s ghost hovers near. New dreams enter spontaneously, squeezing in like rush-hour commuters.

Occasionally you climb inside, sinking, quicksand-like, into your dreams.

One day, you know, you will discard the key. But will you be inside the box, or out?
 
Meeting


‘Greetings, William’

‘Ayup, Ma’am’

‘I trust you are well?’

‘Same as ever, Ma’am, same as ever, you?’

‘As you say William, same as…. ever.’

‘Gardens are looking good.’

‘They are certainly look most agreeable from the gallery windows.’

‘New fella’s doing a bang-up job. Oh and you should go look there and read, they’ve put in summat about us both.’

‘So they have. Hmm, some day you must tell me of your “Great War”.’

‘If I can, I will Ma’am… one night.’

‘Ah, they know my history well, only my death was actually in 1603.’

‘Oh well, nothing perfect in this world. Goodnight, Ma’am.’

‘Goodnight.’
 
Gawd, the hardest thing is keeping it to exactly 100 words, eh?! I am cutting, slicing, checking, substituting like a mad woman :D
 
Day 5 – Meeting

“Yoohoo!”
Shhh! No one must see us together!”
“Why?”
“It would freak them out.”
“But we’re so beautiful.”
“Yes, but we’re meant to be apart, even though we share a name.”
“Same shade too, except shepherds really love you. They don’t like me at all.”
“That’s not true! They do like you! It’s just a stupid saying, an old wives’ tale.”
“Right. So it’s not a high pressure air mass from the west scattering blue light from the sun in atmospheric particles, meaning you’re not going to piss it down then?”
“Err, no.”
“Fuck off.”
“Okay, it might be that.”
 
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