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Seridano
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#1
Old 01-21-2011, 05:10 PM


From time to time I find myself in possession of little bits of muse looking for an outlet. Thus, I have decided to undertake the one of the popular drabble challenges on DA alongside a special Mene built challenge. Suggestions for the second challenge will come from you lovely individuals...feel free to submit however many themes. In fact, the more, the merrier! ^.^


::The Regular Challenge:::

This is the standard DA variation 1 of the 100 drabble themes that everyone seems to be starting these days.

SPOILERX

1. Introduction
2. Love
3. Light
4. Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive
10. Breathe Again
11. Memory
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood
18. Rainbow
19. Gray
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectations
34. Stars
35. Hold My Hand
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought
53. Keeping a Secret (challenge v. Margie)
54. Tower
55. Waiting
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Sight
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror
66. Traps
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can't
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red
87. Food/Eat
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation




:::The Menewsha Challenge::

I will take the first 100 themes suggested to me by my fellow Menewshans and begin working on a drabble for each of the themes listed. If there are any open slots, that means you can suggest something.

SPOILERX


1. Friendship
2. Disappointment
3. Games
4. Supernova
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19
.20
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.

Last edited by Seridano; 05-09-2013 at 03:52 PM..

Seridano
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#2
Old 01-21-2011, 05:31 PM

#17 - Blood

I stand in bits of broken porcelain, pushing them deeper into the carpet with my toes.
Each poignant little sting helps remind me why I'm here.
Each push is a statement. I exist. No, I bleed therefore I exist.
Spots of crimson soak into plush brown, creating little pictures that tell my tale.
A struggle, it was always a struggle I remind myself, stepping over the shattered vase...

It doesn't matter now.

I make my way toward the window, toes tracking tales across the carpet.
Little red drips that tell my story,
just as the blood on my hands tells yours.

Last edited by Seridano; 02-01-2011 at 10:31 PM..

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#3
Old 01-21-2011, 05:50 PM

#19 - Gray

Oh, my dear, you know better than to give in to such childish flights of fancy. Black and white, good and evil,
such neat little boxes suit the child, not the adult. You're far too old for this. As an adult, you must
reach further, delve deeper, blur the lines between all that you know to be right or wrong until there
is naught left but treacherous ambiguity, beautiful loopholes, and endless possibilities. You must discover
those infinite variances, those shades of gray. Only then will you truly understand
what went through my head when I cast you aside.

Last edited by Seridano; 01-21-2011 at 05:53 PM..

Liztress
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#4
Old 01-22-2011, 03:08 AM

Oh, I want to suggest a theme! *glomps Seri* How about Friendship? >.> Unless that's a bad one... Or what about Disappointment?

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#5
Old 01-24-2011, 09:03 AM

You write a LOT more eloquently than I do, dear!

Seridano
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#6
Old 01-28-2011, 05:30 AM

Me? Eloquent? Psh, nah! Besides, I happen to like your writing. <3

*adds Liz's suggested themes*

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#7
Old 01-28-2011, 05:53 AM

D'aww! *feels special* But my shiznit is mediocre at best. I'm no Jane Austen, of course.

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#8
Old 02-01-2011, 10:20 PM

I doubt any of us are going to be hailed as the next Jane Austen, that's asking a bit too much. Honestly, I'm not sure I'd want to be the next JA, even if I could reach that level of creative expression.

Alright, so this one is a tad more personal, as I've just started taking a creative non-fiction class and it has me in an interesting frame of mind (to say the least). Also, yay already managing to break my stick to 100 words and 100 words only rule. >.<;


#23 - Cat


I learn of her death one day after school. "A greyhound thought she was a rabbit," a simple statement from my mother that tells all I need to know, conjuring images of pumping legs, and flashing teeth, and trailing viscera.

I don't cry then. I cry at night, years later, as a creature plagued with nobility limps into the woods each time she's unobserved. As, day after day, she is sought out until she's finally discovered and carried back into the house, as she escapes whenever the door is left slightly ajar, returning to the woods, seeking to bury herself amidst dead grass and decomposing leaves.

We find her. A mass of gray hidden in a darkened wood - just one more shadow. Voices shrill with worry tease black tipped ears. They twitch, lay flat, block out reason, and curse the feel of the warm arms that cradle with the utmost care, that carry, that bring her home - the last place she wishes to be.

Her spirit dies on the kitchen floor, where she lays pinned by the weakness of her own quivering limbs, unable to make it from my mother's bed to the open door. That last jump took everything she had.

Little by little, her form fades from actuality into memory, present into past, gray blurring into shadow. The movement I catch out of the corner of my eye is a barren twig, its skeletal fingers swaying in the breeze. I think of all that it is not. It is not a flash of dark fur on an increasingly darkening backdrop. It is not the sound of small feet padding carefully through dead leaves. It is not the teeth of impatience sinking into a hand as if to say 'enough petting, leave me alone already,' nor is it the soft mewl of disappointment.

We bury her in the back yard. My brother and I hold hands.

Last edited by Seridano; 02-01-2011 at 10:33 PM..

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#9
Old 02-02-2011, 05:47 PM

Quote:
her form fades from actuality into memory, present into past, gray blurring into shadow
I really like your style!

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#10
Old 02-03-2011, 01:39 AM

See, this is what I'm saying! I can't write like that!

Seridano
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#11
Old 02-03-2011, 05:23 AM

Thanks, glad you guys approve, that one took quite a bit of time to get right.

And why would you want to write like that? Normally, when reading my writing, people like to inform me that they could never bear to read mass amounts of it. >.< Besides, everyone has their own style, and I like yours. That, and I've had a great mentor in terms of creative writing. She always knows just the exercise to spark my creativity and direct it into something meaningful.

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#12
Old 02-03-2011, 05:27 AM

Because I feel so mediocre when I'm writing ;_; like I left out a big chunk that should've been finished.

Seridano
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#13
Old 02-10-2011, 09:50 PM

I do things like that all the time. Hell, I just turned something that's all jumbled and missing several parts in for a critique the other day. *is so screwed*

Last edited by Seridano; 02-11-2011 at 02:49 AM..

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#14
Old 10-22-2011, 08:23 PM

#78 - Drink


“Seven stars, there are seven stars!” Mike turns to me, grinning from ear to ear.

“You know what that means,” Charro murmurs from his corner.
He’s been brooding in silence for the better part of the evening,
bearing his drink like a cross, all seriousness and gloom.
But now, even his lips are quirking upward.

They’ve got me.

“Drink!” The voices in the room become a chorus. Seven voices,
seven parts, seven bloody stars!

I bring the glass to my lips, close my eyes, and try not to wince as liquid fire spills
down my throat and tendrils of warmth begin to curl through my belly.
Three hours later, there are not seven stars, but eight, and Charro is laughing.



Last edited by Seridano; 10-22-2011 at 08:53 PM..

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#15
Old 10-22-2011, 08:54 PM

#87 - Food

They call it grace, that suspended moment where time stands still and your cat
walks back into the living room after being gone for twenty years.

In that time, you pick up the cat. The kettle boils over.
The oven beeps and beeps and beeps.

Nothing burns.

Your ex stands in the doorway telling you that the
baked stuffed shells can wait, they’re mostly cheese anyway.
He’s always hated cheese (especially ricotta).

Smiling, you turn back the clock. Watch him disappear. Remove the shells
from the oven – blackened now, but still edible.


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#16
Old 11-11-2011, 07:34 PM

Oh my gossssh. I love your writing. It's so. . . just great. . . I want to start these drabble things, but i'd fail. (:

Seridano
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#17
Old 10-01-2012, 09:21 PM

Aww thank you, dear. You should give it a try. It's a good deal of fun! ^.^

Also...I really ought to update this soon.

Last edited by Seridano; 10-01-2012 at 09:32 PM..

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#18
Old 10-01-2012, 09:33 PM

#11 - Memory


They’re dead but not gone; those that we love live on for as long as we remember…

“God, I hate the cancer pictures.”

Thankfully, memory is subjective. We can take the good and toss the bad at the bottom of a bin, lock it away, forget about it. Only the good remains - an old fishing hat in need of a good wash, but too precious to risk; an even older woman (his mother) covered from head to toe in rainbow stickers, her grandchildren giggling on either side of her; a fifteen year old boy grinning from ear to ear as he sets off a pilfered M80 in the back yard and his friends cheer.

The pictures are hand selected. In the pictures, he's cancer free. He isn’t smiling either, but we pretend.

Years later we will sit around telling stories:
“Remember a few years back when…” -- "And Randy spilled all of the beer..." -- “And we took that picture…” -- “And he was smiling.”

Last edited by Seridano; 10-01-2012 at 09:51 PM..

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#19
Old 10-01-2012, 09:46 PM

#31 - Flowers

He stands in the garden where the flowers never bloom. Imagines the lilies that might have been, and the peonies that looked picture perfect sitting in the window of the flower shop down the street, but couldn't survive the shock of transplant or the winter’s chill.

Though nothing grows in the solemn beds, they are not without ornament. Each day he returns to place a marker in place of a flower that could have been, little paper roses – the only thing he knows how to make with palsied hands. They sit in staggered rows, zigzagging up and down the flower beds, each row bearing a variation in color or pattern. Green star-bursts peek from the farthest row and turquoise solids sit boldly in the first. Not a one of them is the traditional white, yellow, or red with their fixed meanings: Purity, friendship, love. Instead, he makes up meanings of his own for the oddly patterned roses that stick up from the dry beds: zebra patterns for birthdays, orange to remind him when the grass needs cutting, at least one standing at attention in each row, silver with red stripes for luck, gold for the impossible.

He has yet to make a single gold rose.

On Saturdays, he tells the girl that used to be his granddaughter (back when being his granddaughter was still considered cool) about the roses that he plans to add to the garden. She scoffs at him. He smiles.

On Sundays, he plants them. Each paper is folded with care, meaning infused into each thin layer. Several times he starts only to rip them when his hands shake. When this happens, he begins again without comment. He is at peace as they rest in his palms and slip between his fingers. He smiles as he pushes them, paper stem first, into the ground.

On Monday, it rains. Each week, this happens like clockwork. The paper buds bloom and sit for but a night before they are drenched and destroyed.

On Tuesday he plans the next batch of roses, decides that the meaning of orange shall be a promise made this week, and green star-bursts shall be regrets.

On Saturday, he tells the girl that used to be his granddaughter (back when being his granddaughter was still considered cool) about the roses that he plans to add to the garden. She scoffs at him. He smiles.

On Sunday he plants them.

This week, there are no green star-bursts.

Seridano
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#20
Old 02-05-2013, 06:49 PM

#58 - Sight


All the worlds tumbled before him, past and present blurring and entwining like a dream, future popping in and out at intervals to unnerve him, never quite allowing a full glimpse of what was to come. He could look into it, but he could never see the heart of it. What did any of it mean?

There were times when he had half a mind to write it all off. It means nothing, not a lick of it! That’s what it means. He’d been open to the worlds for many a long year now and it’d been of little help to him, his sight.

It did not grant him the view of an ant, or an apple tree, or his granddaughter’s smile as she twirled about in peach colored taffeta, skirts whirling about her like ribbons at the Festival of May, but he saw just the same – what was, and had been, and would be again. And as he laid out the cards for all to see, he held out one depicting a salamander and said that the future went a little something like this:

Last edited by Seridano; 02-05-2013 at 07:01 PM..

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#21
Old 02-05-2013, 07:00 PM

#87 - Eat

“You’re so cute I could just eat you up.”

“That’s not funny, Ray.”

When I was younger, my grandparents used to say this to me all the time. You’re so cute I could just eat you up. I didn’t like it then. I like it even less now. Of course, they haven’t said it once since the onset of the outbreak, actually they haven’t said much of anything these past three years, but something tells me that the sentiment is still the same. All that grunting and groaning coming from the closet in the basement sounds a hell of a lot like - ‘you’re so cute I could just eat you up’ - only now; it’s a bit more literal.

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#22
Old 04-06-2013, 11:34 AM

Okay, so I've loved everything you've done in this thread, and the eating one cracked me up. Well done!

Do you still want suggestions? No? LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU you should write about a supernova if you haven't already.

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#23
Old 05-09-2013, 03:52 PM

Suggestions are always appreciated and I will add that to the list...because f!yeah supernovas, that's why. o.o

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#24
Old 05-10-2013, 01:32 AM

XD thanks Seridano. :-) How long is your list?

Seridano
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#25
Old 05-17-2013, 01:23 AM

The second one? Not very.
The first one...fairly long. xP

 


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