Archive for the ‘Drabbles – 100 words’ Category


Scary things – a drabble hat trick

February 20, 2018

“What’s the worst that could happen? Seriously.”
“I could live a comfortable and fulfilling life.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I think I’m addicted to the struggle. It’s not worth it if I don’t have to work hard for it.”
“What if you’re working hard to keep from having it? So trapped within the narrative that you don’t deserve it that you expend all this energy to keep it at an arm’s length? What if it’s not that hard, but you putting up obstacles make it seem so?”
“Telling myself I deserve happiness isn’t the same as believing it.”


“There’s been a mixup. You’re  not supposed to be here, living this life, at this moment. We apologize, you must be perfectly miserable.”
“I’m not sure what you’re on about, but I don’t see the issue. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m perfectly content.”
“Erm, according to my records, no, you are not.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, as I’m here, living this life and it’s good enough for me.”
“Yes, that’s exactly the issue. You don’t see. The worst part? You’ve blinded yourself. Time to wake up. You’ve been asleep far too long.”


Her sewing skills weren’t terribly impressive, but they were perfunctory enough for what she needed.
Clearing a space on the table, she set down everything she needed. With a very sharp and very clean knife, she sliced a hole in her chest, making a slit just wide enough for her fingers. Gently probing inside, she pulled out her heart, and set it in a pie plate.
She wrapped it carefully in velvety soft red fabric, creating a pocket which she sewed closed and reinserted the organ into her chest.

Now her heart could break without a single piece being lost.



Love affairs – a trifecta of drabbles

February 20, 2018

His eyes were sad and dreamed of a poetry he thought lost to him.
He told himself that he’d searched for it in the familiar curves of his wife’s body, that she hid from him, leaving him no choice but to look elsewhere.

He spotted it in the golden eyes of a girl with a whiskey smile that promised the kind of forgetting he craved. Her eyebrow arched very pointedly at his ring finger.

“Touch her the way you would me.”

He recalled the words she’d whispered under the music as he reached for his wife in their darkened bed.


“This isn’t forever.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Nothing lasts forever.”
“Do you think you’ll die?”
“Of course I’ll die, everyone dies.”
“I didn’t ask if you’ll die, I asked if you think you’ll die. There is a difference.”
“I see. Well, to be honest it’s easy to think of other people dying, they do it all the time. But I rarely do, so perhaps on some level I’m not convinced I will.
“So how can you say you know this isn’t forever if you don’t think you’ll die?”
“Because nothing lasts forever, and darlin, this is most certainly not nothing.”

He’d spent his lifetime meticulously pasting photographs into albums, labelling the heavy dark green paper with dates written in the special silver inked pen he kept in its own small drawer in the roll top desk.
Every page carried the weight of years, incrementally, giving the passage of time a tangible heft, as though it were something he could jingle in his pocket as he walked. He often wandered from past to present, his memory rich with timeless moments.

Though none of those came close to the way he felt, even now, when she smiled at him, in that way.


Regrets (2) – a drabble

November 3, 2017

She woke with the flicker of flame in her peripheral vision. The dry steam of the night held itself watchful between them, tied up in the drawn curtains and trickling out under the small space between carpet and door. She felt the weight of her choices laying on her back, and tried to keep her breathing even, though he knew she was awake.

A lazy curl of smoke pressed toward a ceiling painted patchy to hide water stains that always found their way through.

They always find their way through, no matter how much we try to cover it up. 


Embracing change – a double drabble

September 19, 2017

I can feel the crisp on my cheeks, the tip of my nose. It balances the warmth at the back of my neck, curling under my hairline. I wonder briefly about the temperature it needs to be to keep sweat in a static state of never quite forming. The wool toque is scratchy on the tops of my ears and I shift my head a tiny bit to alleviate the tickle, as my hands are occupied.

My hands are bare, the tips of my fingers cooling quickly in the lack of late afternoon sun, and wrapped around the smooth wooden handles of the wheelbarrow. The load is heavy, so I keep the angle as close to level as I can, smiling at the gentle strain in the length of my arms. Autumn is a season to embrace change, the lazy days of summer giving way to snow fall. Things can’t be put off any longer, action is required. Making sure everything is tucked away which needs to be, garden beds are covered, fire wood is split and stacked, the harvest is properly stored. I’m nearly there. I have only a few more things to take care of.

Like dumping you.


Book jacket love affair – a drabble

August 26, 2017

His black and white lips look soft, but like they could be cruel when least expected. I’d like to trace the shadow of his hairline while his hands find me in the dark and pull me in, because there are stories I’ve yet to hear. I want to listen, but those lips that speak in far off worlds and close up kisses distract me.
His eyes are troubled, they harbour a fear of carelessness, there is caution in the set of his jaw. The way he smiles, in those rare moments he’s surprised, makes me fall madly in love. Everytime.

(For Sam Shepard)


The grandest surprise was that she could still be surprised. A drabble

May 28, 2017

“It’s hard for me to look at you directly, because I find myself in this perpetual state of wanting to kiss you when I do. Wanting the feel of your hands pulling me near, closer than seems possible, and yet there we are, defying physics and reason with something that resembles need and yet isn’t necessary. We’re here because we want to be, we’re close because we crave it, not because it is desperate or panicked.”

There was calm there, and that was more intoxicating than she ever considered possible. She didn’t need him, but she enjoyed him so much.


Stay open – a drabble

May 26, 2017

A long leg sun stretch left him momentarily blinded by her high waist shirt ride arms akimbo and somehow tangled in her own hair, which seemed to perpetually threaten to mess itself up if he wouldn’t.

So he did.
And lay there while she drifted, twisting those titian tresses between fingers that he considered hard and rough, yet somehow made her soft skin sigh with delight. The sun teased with a trajectory that should have inspired him to do all the things that daylight demanded of him, but the way her legs wrapped his suggested he stay.

So he did.

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