drabble

Drabble: The Blue Ticket

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We stand in line waiting our turn. There are only a few people in front of me with a long snaking trail still behind me. The woman passing out tickets only had a sliver of them left and I worry that I won’t get one in time. One, two, three, the tickets disappear and the sliver grows smaller. When I reach the table, and the final blue ticket is placed in my hand, I’m giddy with relief.

I step aside and hear cries of pain and outrage behind me, but I clutch that ticket to my chest and don’t turn back. With one hand on my suitcase I head to the tunnel. I pass by a child crying on the floor, a glaring old woman grinding her teeth, and two armored guards with guns on their hips. Still I don’t turn back. I don’t want to see the ones left behind or their desperation.

When I exit the tunnel, I gasp. The ship nearly fills the sky. Families cry and hug one another here in the fenced in yard, in stark contrast to the tension outside. When the ground trembles beneath our feet, a frightened hush falls over us. We might be safe soon, but the others won’t be. I allow myself to turn and see the long snaking chain of people. From here I can’t see the fear and hatred in their eyes, but I know it’s there. I can’t blame them.

As another tremor shakes the ground, I know none of those people will make it off this ruined planet in time. Regardless of what ships are scheduled to come, regardless of the promises that were made, this will be the final ship to leave.

I almost return my ticket and let someone else take my place.

Almost.

Prompt: The Participants

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Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: The Smartly Dressed Intern

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My glass of whiskey shatters on the floor as I feel the pressure around my throat. I’m pulled back in my office chair and out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of blond hair and red lipstick. It’s Julia, the intern we just hired with the warm smile and fashionable dresses. Her resume was excellent, I should have questioned what made her want to apply. I should have questioned how she could afford such lovely outfits too.

I’m seeing stars now and there’s pain building in my skull. I don’t have much time before I black out. The gun in the drawer is too obvious, so I fall forward over my desk in a pretend coughing fit to reach for the bottle at my feet. Julia struggles to keep her grip tight on the rope. The office chair is tall and she has to step around it to get close enough. She’s determined though, just like I am.

I slip my fingers around the neck of the bottle and sit back in the chair again, locking her hands behind me momentarily. It gives me just enough time to bash the whiskey bottle against her skull. Blood mingles with glass fragments as she wavers, then collapses to the floor. She might be dead, but I’m in no hurry to check.

I pull off the garrote, gasping, panting, and coughing out the pain. In my hands is the bright red necktie Julia had worn with her smart polka dot dress. If she wasn’t working alone, then there would be others. Despite a pounding skull I check out Julia. She’s pouring blood all over the dingy carpet, but she’s alive. I know she’ll need to be questioned, but still, I wish I’d swung harder.

Prompt: Bold Necktie

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Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: The Ring Finger

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It came skulking to the window late one night, a creature unlike any that I have seen. It was too large to be a dog, too hairy to be a wolf, and yet it crouched in a most human manner. It dragged its black claws down the length of the window, sending a shiver down my spine. We stared at each other for several moments while the wind outside beat against the walls of the house.It stood on its hind legs and with a howl that no creature ought to be able to make, it pushed that window down as though it was tissue paper. I stood up then, stumbling over my chair in my haste and wishing my cell phone was charged. I rushed to the hall, slammed the door behind me, and pressed an ear to the door.Silence. Was I mad? Had I imagined the creature that had smashed its way into my study? Minutes passed before I built up the courage to open that door, wincing as it creaked on its hinges; I hadn’t opened it an inch before the beast’s claws came through. It tore down the door with its eyes boring into mine. They were human eyes, familiar eyes.

“My God…” I grunted as the beast pushed me up against the wall. “Anna, is that you?”

It grimaced at me with pointed teeth, perhaps its own cruel smile. It glanced at my ring finger, barren of the wedding ring now that we were divorced, then snarled with renewed hatred.

“Honey…” I whispered. “Baby, please?”

Of all my ex-wives, Anna was the last I would have expected to kill me. I tried to laugh as she sank her fangs into my throat, but she wouldn’t even allow that luxury.

Prompt: Similar to A

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Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Captain, My Captain

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Prompt: Discontent

Foam sprays up the belly of the ship as angry clouds move inward. This voyage was full of bad omens; Joe nearly fell from the crow’s nest, a barrel of grain was full of maggots, and then there’s the Captain to consider. With her fiery hair and great red coat, she could outmatch anyone on the ship with her blade.

She thinks we’ll find the Darkness Dweller within those clouds, that shadow creature that lurks into our homes and saps our kinsmen dry. She says it’s responsible for the storm that’s sent our way, for the tumultuous waves, and starless skies each night. I say she’s bit with madness; though we all know the best Captains are.

The rains come in heavy and within minutes I’m soaked through to my bones. My hands are raw as I double and triple check the knots on deck; the water in my eyes makes it hard to see.

“It’s here!” She calls out like a shrieking banshee. Her red hair is bright against the dark clouds above and she’s smiling. Madness indeed.

She’s barely said the words when I see the shadows slink their way across the deck, like the feelers of an octopus, but harder to see. I call out to Old Finny, but he can’t hear me over the heavy rain. Then the shadow touches his boot and shoots up his good leg. He grabs at his thigh with a shriek, but the shadow has him. Before it can reach his head, the Captain is upon him. She thrusts her blade through Finny’s boot, and somehow the shadow too. Blood pours out and Finny screams, but the shadow retreats.

“Get him below,” she says and I obey. She may be a mad banshee, but she’s also one hell of a Captain.

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Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Corrupted Power

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Prompt: By the Bed

On the nightstand in the tiny bedroom we used to share, I keep your picture. The frame is tarnished now but I can’t bring myself to clean it. I don’t want it to change. I want it to stay just the way it was when we had it made.

The artist’s hand wasn’t perfect, but she captured you so well; I see more than just your face, I see your aura, your lust for life, your contentment. If only he hadn’t come and dangled that one temptation before you, hadn’t made you those grand promises that I could never match, hadn’t stolen your heart with his talk of power and peace.

You were always an idealist, my dear. You always thought the world could be a better place, and all it took was the right carpetbagger to come along and offer you that perfect, idealized, impossible picture. It’s not your fault really. I can’t blame you for it. Power has always been your Achilles’ heel, and now you’re stuck in that terrible contract because of it.

He has you wrapped up in words, tied up with responsibilities, locked away in an illusion that fulfills your dreams. You know better though, don’t you, my dear? You can see the cracks bleeding through, you can see the disruption you cause, you can see that absolute power can’t bring perfect peace like you imagined so long ago. Don’t worry, I’m coming for you. I’ll break you free of his grip one way or another. I won’t leave you to rot away in a prison cell, even if you did choose to be there. You couldn’t possibly have known what it would be like; you couldn’t have known how it would tear us apart. You wouldn’t have accepted if you had known, right, dear?

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I post a new Drabble (almost) every Wednesday at Noon ET. Click Follow on the right to get weekly updates.

 

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.