Tag: Drabble

Earthly Delights

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Circe daydreamed under an oak tree that grew on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Her pet pig, Ulysses, dug truffles while she watched the sunset roll in. The truffles smelled woody, fresh, and clean. She felt wise when she nibbled them, almost as if she’d lived on the island for centuries. 

She had thought she might live forever, cloistered from humankind. Young, tech rich, cranky, and prone to fits of passionate revenge, solitude suited her until she longed for company. Her TikTok video advertising island paradise dream homes went viral. Ulysses, in a straw hat, held an open house sign.

To Hell and Gone, Revised

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Graduation night, Persephone and her girl band rocked out in the high school cafeteria. Glittery sequins covered her jacket like chain mail. She was young, it was spring, life was good.

But spring turned to winter when Persephone quenched her thirst with a fruity punch at intermission. Her head spinning, she stepped outside. That hellhound from the shooting range who was always trying to get into her pants appeared.

Blame it on the punch; she followed him. Her mother, a social influencer, raised the alarm. Millions searched. The gods got involved. When the two returned, her mother gave him hell. 

(Apologies, it’s been hard to keep up this week.)

To Hell and Gone

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Graduation night, Demeter made punch. Her daughter, Persephone, washed glasses and when they got to the auditorium, she set them out on a table where a senior class picture was displayed. Persephone was in the center of it all because spring was her season. 

But spring turned to fall, then winter when Persephone’s boyfriend texted. Was he in on it? When she stepped outside, there was that hellhound from the shooting range who was always trying to get into her pants.

Blame it on the punch; she followed him.  

When they returned, her mother sent him to hell and back.

Some Things I Remember

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There are things you tell me before you die. Hurricane fears, the way rain scares you, bad dreams. You regret giving up your apartment. You miss seeing dolphins from your window on the bay. The view in assisted living is more limited.

But you have memories. Paris, London, Istanbul, Beijing. You toured the Galapagos. A birthday treat from Richard. Doesn’t he need you in the apartment? Sadly no, I say.

Some things survive. You remember a sweet sixteen necklace from your father. The jewelry that was your mother’s. Richard’s mobiles and guitars. Mexican crockery. Still, some things you don’t recall.

Things to Do While Waiting

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Take a walk.
Soak up sun for the vitamin D; looking to cure my SADD. 
What an acronym. 
This winter has been bad. Must be old age. 
Try not to get old.
Make a vet appointment for the dog, grooming appointment, too. 
I’ve done the crossword, not had breakfast. I’m reading the newspaper.
An inspiring story about a man in So Cal who’s taught Afghan women to drive. More Afghan women drive in So Cal now than in Afghanistan. 
Not surprising, but still inspiring. 
Small, good deeds keep us young.
I wish the dog would poop. I have things to do.

April Fool

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He was up for mischief. A pint up. He twigged a flash of green, nothing but a fairy glimmer out from the woods at break of dawn. Then again, he reckoned ‘twas twilight. That might serve the little people better, twilight when shadows run deep, twilight when souls slip between worlds and mischief is abroad. 

That second pint of ale overcome him. He could do anything now. Lift the world on his shoulders and take it for a ride. Find his true love. She’d encouraged him, green eyes, there on the barstool. But was it real, or was it blarney?

A Word From the Wise

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My mother-in-law treasured words. Scrabble was her game. Precision, patience, strategy.  Tiles that scored both ways or landed on a triple made some sweet satisfaction. Sometimes points weren’t the point;  defensive play wins games while openings encourage neophytes and friends. When she spoke, a few words said it all. Most often she meant to be kind. An invitation, a suggestion, wise words, sometimes firm redirection, sharp, if necessary. 

She held onto words until the end. She gathered them slowly. It took time to retrieve them. They balked, hidden away from memory, supplemented by smiles and nods. The sentences were short. The meaning was clear.

Smoking on a Wet Evening

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You know the way it rains at night after the dogs been out. After everybody settles near the fireplace, shoes kicked off, feet warming. That kind of night when, like as not, a banshee’ll slip in through the cracks in the ceiling and make herself at home. 

Don’t disturb her. She’ll get loud, then. Nobody dies if she stays calm. Don’t be alarmed when she squats, knees up around her head, haunches down on the floor. Offer her a pipe. The one you’re smoking. It’s likely why she came. After a heavy drag, she’ll nod and disappear up the chimney.

Quince Blossoms on Bare Wood

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Quince flowers on a bare stick of a tree,
blooming in the dead of winter.
Coral colored buds against brown bark,
two elements, earth and water.

The blue aired sky, the fire orange sun. 
Air and sky and weft and warp.
The dogs sense a reckoning.
They raise their ears in a unified front with the four elements.

They yowl into song like actors in a musical.
At times like these, when winter seems eternal, when spirits flag,
when fear threatens to extinguish the elements of life,
we need a rousing score. A yellow brick road. A little dog, too.

Cash for Teeth

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“Guess what the going rate for teeth is,” Marjorie said.

“Uh, three dollars.” Angie thought that was an outrageous sum. She’d once got a quarter for a wisdom tooth from a boyfriend. A joke. The Tooth Fairy gave her a dime for each.

“Six and change.” Gotcha, her grin said.

“Oh, c’mon.” Angie thought Marjorie exaggerated to get attention.

But later, Angie ran across an item in News of the Weird. Six was the average. Some kids got a Benjamin for each tooth. She said to her mother, “You ripped me off.” Then she told her how.

Mom laughed. “Inflation.”