[x]

Man with an obscure newspaperThe man sits like he owns the bench, maybe he does. His glasses sink on his nose and he holds the newspaper in front of him like a sail, glancing around it and failing to comprehend the text. Perhaps the paper is upside down, so he flips it and tries again. Still the glyphs don't form any meaningful patterns. This is getting quite confusing. It's possible that the man is drunk. On the other hand papers often don't make any sense. Perhaps neither of them is making any sense and this thought makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

The End of a BeginningJay had been waiting for the butterfly to emerge from its cocoon. When the day finally came...

A blue butterfly slowly crept out and fluttered its wings. Freedom at last! It longed to fly in the sky, flit among the flowers...

Jay clamped his fingers over the butterfly's wings. In wicked delight, he tore the wings off one by one, and threw the now-wingless butterfly to the ground.

Mission accomplished! Now he had blue wings to add to his collection.

The torn butterfly was left to die; its short-lived freedom lost, its dreams gone... forever.

The end of a beginning.

Apple Cider

On grandma’s porch there sit three sisters, watching the apples fall through November.

The eldest teaching the youngest how to fit suspicion under her eyebrow; essential to any gossiper’s repertoire. The third stands skeptically, scoffing at apple-tree memories.

She’s still young enough to be ashamed of her childhood. Secretly, she still finds splendor in the exact way a rotten apple splatters when thrown through a chain-link fence.

The teapot’s whistle lures her into the kitchen.

The eldest asks for earl grey, with milk; hot chocolate for the smallest, while the girl in between unearths the last packet of

One afternoon-

In our two-room apartment, on the sixth floor of a gray building mercilessly being baked by an August afternoon, I heard it coming. Leaching through the thin windows, that rattled under the stress of sound and pressure, a battle cry crescendo: a roar that would bring with it terror and pain, fueling a constant, ever-present hate.

Closer and closer, in that instant I could sense it drawing near, that faint whistle trailing the imminent. It was then that I realized it was too late and in a great flash of sight and sound, I lost my mother and my arm.

-

Anticipation and Patience

"This is so odd."

"Yeah."

"Do you know what . . ."

"No, not really."

In the dank basement, we examined the victim before us. It had been long dead, now white as a sheet. It had been chosen specifically for this task, shipped to us by the only dealer down the road who sold them. We held our sharpened tools in our hands, ready to mar the unfortunate object. I looked to her, exasperated.

"Do you know what we're working on?"

She hesitated. ". . . A . . . dr—drabble, I think. . . or something . . ."

I sighed, guessing this was going to take longer than I had hoped.

Drabble 2I was at the jewelry counter. I remember when the little boy came up to the counter. His pants seemed to be falling down. I saw why when he began to shovel the coins and few crumpled bills out of his pockets. He put them all on the table, briefly scanned the display, and pointed to a pendant. It was for his mother. He had brought only $21.63, and even that saved up for months. I wanted to cry – it cost $100. I couldn't bear to tell him no. I bagged the pendant and paid the rest with a smile.

A New BeginningThe faerie raised her eyes tearfully to the sky. Rain poured down, soaking the charred ground, but in her mind she could still see the fires raging around her.

With a cry, she buried her face in her hands. Everyone and everything she had ever cared about, gone as suddenly as a cool breeze in the middle of summer.

I can't stay here. Not anymore.

She whispered something softly, then waited, smiling.

Suddenly, lightning flashed down from the sky, striking her where she sat, and she was gone.

The rain poured on, and in her place a tiny seedling grew.

The Rain FellThe rain fell.

The darkness outside seemed to close in on her as she hurried down the road, already soaked to the skin, looking for shelter from the storm.

At last a light appeared ahead, and then a house. She eagerly approached, knocking rapidly on the door, but no one answered.

Suddenly something hit her, piercing her heart, and, lifeless, she fell to the ground.

--------

The man watched silently as the girl was dragged into the house, and smiled, revealing sharp teeth. Silently he followed, closing the door behind him, ready for his next meal.

And the rain fell on.

Three Drabbles in the Key of E I cannot

That lump in the back of the throat was dry and full of the sordid lies she thought had released. She tried to console herself, full of a pulsing force of unknown tension that held back her tears – no matter how much he snarled and yearned for her smiles, she would not give.

And was he angry. Nostrils flared and muscles taught; the world could have broken from his fury.

But nothing moved

And nothing was said

A mocking bird cried out. She turned away from his curses and spittle, holding back her tears.

Rejection was not an easy business.

A Day in the Park

"Hold on tight-"

"Alright."

"And don't let go-"

"Alright!"

"Ok…

applying pressureringing. ringing. ringing
finally; a voice.

"hello?"
"hey, it's me..."
"look, it's over. im not coming by anymore. "

click

a cockroach passes. i squash it.
someday the very same pressure you applied to me will be applied to you.
And then my phone will ring
you. trapped. howling:
"PLEASE PICK UP!" and i will, spouting comfort:
hearts shatter. everything's not lost.
it won't hurt as much the next time.
but i'll be lying; i hope it will.

the flame is forever gone, and we are all left mashed by love and the lack of it.

For Morality's Sake"It's not so simple as that."

"It is--just do it."

"But, why?"

I regard the old man, snoozing in his chair, head tilted back as his soft, continuous
snores echoed about the room.

Then my eyes returned to that sharp dagger clenched between my greedy fingers, wondering.
This man was an asshole, anyway. What could it hurt?

As my gaze fell upon my father's chest, I wondered if this was the retribution he
really deserved. My hand drew upwards to take that final plunge.

I couldn't do it.

As I dropped the dagger and left, my brother did instead.

Art AppreciationAcross the room a painting caught her eye. Just a landscape, she'd say, but this was intriguing. An oil painting that radiated a lush green. Every detail kissed by the artist's loving hand: the waterfall, the man at the edge of the water. Looks closer, man raping woman. She looks over her shoulder; a teenager stands, staring. He laughs, looking as if he'd been waiting, all along, for her to notice. She denies what he finds amusing and smiles politely back. Returning to the painting she sighs at the image, her image. If no one else would understand, she would.

It's A Life For MeAh, when I was young, leave school, drop my sack, out the back! Dashed out the door before I could be cornered with a list of chores, and to freedom I flew.

Hop up, pop up, don't stop; we claimed everything, nothing claimed us. Sticks and stones, broken bones and a helluva lot of laughing. The kiss tag game, but I wanted to get kissed, but it was gross because my friends said so.

Convinced the store to give me free candy, sugar high, all mine. Greedy greedy, gimme gimme always gets. Only one problem.

I had to grow up.

The City That Never Sleeps

He stayed frozen in the street; glass and pavement in his hair, his belly facing the sky. The driver lounged on the yellow cab's door, a spider web marking the point of impact on the windshield.

With a phone to my ear and words entering the receiver, I noticed no one else had called. Save for the woman kneeling beside him, no one else had bothered to help.

Standing on Canal and Greenwich in 'the city that never sleeps' I felt oddly still as the audience surrounded us; they remained detached enough to circumvent participation, only becoming louder and larger.

One Santa Down...Christmas morning:

"Mom, where's daddy?" the eight year old girl asked.

"Daddy's sick in bed, so we have to do Christmas without him. We can't let all that Santa's done go to waste... He traveled all the way from the North Pole for us."

"Mom, where is the North Pole?"

"Only Santa knows."

The girl scowled.

"Mom, I don't like Santa."

"How come sweetie?" her mother inquired.

"He gave sis more presents last year - but I took care of that problem!"

She gleamed.

"Oh?" her mother perked.

"I put decon in the egg nog, and he drank all of it!"

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It rained tears that day

by ~raheel07, Nov 19, 2006, 2:45:40 PM
Contests / 2006 / Suture Drabble Contest

From that last day of monsoon, her life fell into a complete darkness. They felt she wouldn't open her eyes. He’s gone.

Both loved rains. In monsoons, their routine was getting and having fun. He always asked, “How can a sky cry?” She always replied with a smile accompanying clouds’ joyful tears for their unconditional love. But now of grief as he was dead in a blast.

Sarah, a mother in the lap of her mother, finally opened her wet eyes. All she saw was darkness of eternal night and his son as a shining star in the sky.

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It rained tears that dayby ~raheel07

Contests / 2006 / Suture Drabble Contest

A story where everyone cried along with the sky.

~faile88 Nov 19, 2006

that's so sad...

The first sentence in the second paragraph bugs me a little. Not sure how to fix it, you can work with it.

Very sad. Good job, and good luck in the contest!

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