Drabble? - Siaasgn's experiment
 

I've never really done anything like this before - but I'm feeling like i need to expand my horizons and play in ares I've never played before.


I stumbled upon a live journal community that offers prompts for drabbles and stories - and once I figured out a drabble is a 100 word story story I thought . . .I think I can do that.

So I'm starting with a list of 25 prompts - we'll see how it works out


001.Lively
002.Remorseful
003.Dismiss
004.Heavy
005.Forward
006.Prowl
007.Cut
008.Compromise
009.Impulse
010.Hush
011.Morals
012.Engage
013.Voice
014.Awkward
015.Lower
016.Plead
017.Caring
018.Believe
019.Found
020.Shield
021.Open
022.Tactile
023.Journey
024.Scowl
025.Hero

Hush

"I don't love you anymore," it was such a simple statement, yet it brought so much pain every time the words echoed in his mind.

They always surfaced at the strangest moments. Just today, while ordering coffee those damned words resurfaced, bringing stinging tears to his eyes and a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks.

"Tonight, I will make those words go away. Tonight I will find a way to silence the pain. I will make her hush, and my life will go on," he thought to himself as he sat staring blankly at the monitor in front of him.

Morals


Morals are tricky things, everyone is supposed to live by them but there is no standardized set everyone possesses.

I think it is OK to love whoever you want, but he says it's not OK. He says it is immoral for me to love her. I say it is immoral for him to judge me and my love.

Who wins here? We both are in line with our morals, so would it be morally wrong for either of us to concede? One of us has to give in for harmony to exist.

I guess the moral to this story is that no one wins.

Scowl


The boy's eyebrows scrunched together and down towards a wrinkled nose and pursed lips. This was not frown, this was an all our scowl.

I wondered what could be causing the child so much anger that such a horrible scowl would mar his face, and then I noticed the melted ice-cream on the floor.

It was my turn at the window; I ordered my treat as well as an extra scoop. Smiling at the scowling boy I handed him my extra scoop and patted him on the head. The scowl that was so entrenched slowly melted and was replaced by a gooey smile.

Believe


The small bird peeked out over the edge of the nest and shook at how far away the ground was.

"There's no way I'm leaving this nest, not for all the bugs in the world," he chirped to his nest mates. They had all stretched their wings and flown down to that distant ground, and they were now gently pushing the last little bird towards the edge of the nest, cooing encouragement.

"You can fly, believe us and believe in yourself. Go fly, it's what we were made to do," they cooed to him, but he just shuddered and pushed back towards the inner nest.

Prowl


She drove with the top down, letting the wind whip her hair around, and smiled over at her friend in the passenger seat, "Cheer up, we're two wild women on the prowl for men!"

"I feel more like an old hag," her friend grumped.

"Well, how about we're two old hags on the prowl for tea instead?" she playfully suggested.

"That is a great idea, I know of a great tea house. Let's go hunt some tea", relief could be heard in her voice at being let off the hook. Someday she would be able to tell her friend that the only thing she wanted to prowl was her; until then tea would have to do.

Lower


He shuffled down the alley clutching his empty sandwich bag, tears streaming down his face.

His first chance at food in almost a week and it was ripped from his hands, how could things get any worse?

It was so hot, and his empty stomach pained him. He slowly lowered himself down onto his knees, his tears dried up for lack of water in his body. His first chance at food and drink stolen form him, and now the power to move on is gone.

He slowly lowers himself to the ground, closing his eyes for the last time, hungry no more.

Heavy

Her hands were wrinkled and her skin was pealing from being so saturated with water, but her work was not done. Her family needed clean clothes in order to be 'decent', which means she needed to add an extra 10 hours of work to her week.

Hauling water from the pump into the house, heating the water on the stove, pouring the water into the tub and scrubbing, dumping the tub and starting the process all over again. By the time the pile is all clean she can barely lift the cold, wet mound of clothes. Who ever thought "women's work" would be so heavy.

Open


"Nrrrgggg," she uttered, struggling with the bottle, "Honey, can you open this for me?" she called.

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes at the realization of what she just said. He can't open the bottle; he can't open anything anymore, not even his eyes.

It's been almost a week since he died and little reminders keep reopening the wound in her heart, like this bottle that wouldn't open.

"I'll try one more time, and if I can't get it open then I guess I'm not supposed to be with you yet," she murmured, struggling once again with the pill bottle.

Voice


"I wouldn't do that if I were you,�" the voice murmured in her ear, causing tears of fear to squeeze out of the corners of her eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you struggling is bad? Just stay still and it won't hurt as much,"� there was annoyance and a little bit of sympathy in the voice.

The buzzing of the needle made her tense up again, causing more tears to leak from her eyes. "Just remember how much you want this, and once it's done you'll have a work of art forever on your body."

Oh my god. "Open" just blew my mind. Nice revelation there at the end! <3

Thanks Penny - I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner http://premium.2.forumer.com/html/em...ansparent3.gif


It's been way too long since I've stopped by here - and so I come with another drabble.



Impulse

He sat close to her, so close she could feel his heat, but he wouldn’t touch her. That would be improper. He was too much the gentleman.

She looked over at him and he happened to be looking down at her. On impulse she grabbed his face and kissed him, melting into his lips and tongue. A small moan of happiness escaped her and then she pulled away.

Upon release she looked back up at the stage, a smile of satisfaction softly caressing her lips where his just were.

Her father was wrong; sometimes being impulsive really was a good thing.