Archive for the ‘Daily Drabbles’ Category

Primary Colors: Candy Apple Red

08 Nov

She did not consider herself a flashy person. She dressed conservatively by modern standards and only her grandmother would question the tightness of her sweaters or the length of her skirts. Her job was mundane at best. Her relationship was years old and comfortable.

That was before he dumped her. For someone flashy and trendy and “exciting” who taught pilates at a yoga studio.

She knew it was drastic. She knew she’d likely end up regretting it, but she didn’t care. She saw the bright red car on her commute and called in sick on her way to the dealership.


Darwin’s Drabbles: Puppies and Rainbows

07 Nov

Darwin was four the first time he demonstrated his talent.

“Why you crying, CeCe?”

“I lu-lost Miss Fluh-Flowers.”

“Your puppy?”

“Uh, huh. I c-can’t find her.”

Darwin closed his eyes and thought about the stuffed animal. He saw it, dirty and discarded. The image expanded and he recognized the brightly colored graffiti on the brick wall where the toy rested.

“I find it for you,” he said and took her hand. She followed him to the end of the block and found Miss Flowers where she’d fallen from her backpack.

“You’re magic!”

Darwin shrugged and they walked back to her yard.


Puppies and Rainbows: By Any Other Name

06 Nov

Bowser patiently gnawed on a strip of rawhide as the debate raged.

“We are not naming him ‘Jacob’. Or ‘Edward.’ Or ‘Cullen,’ or anything from those crap books.”

“He’s my dog, Rory. I can name him whatever I want.”

“He needs a classic name. Not some stupid fad that he’ll hate for the rest of his life.”

“He’ll love whatever name I give him, won’t you boy?”

Bowser lumbered over to her. She raised him up and looked him in the eyes.

“What’s your name, little guy?”

Bowser looked back at her and thought with all his might.

“I’ve got it!”


Puppies and Rainbows: Shared Moments

05 Nov

As he scratched behind Bowser’s big floppy ears, Roark’s parents conferred.

“We decided, Roger. Bethany would get to pick out the puppy.”

“But look at your son. He’s smiling. He’s having fun. I can’t remember the last time he came out with us without his phone in his hand.”

“But Bethany—” Janie cut herself short as she watched her daughter approach Bowser and Roark. Roark showed her what he’d already learned about the affectionate little puppy. Where he liked to be scratched. Sounds that made him wag his tail. Bethany searched the room for her parents.

“I like this one, Mom.”


Puppies and Rainbows: When Bowser Met Roark

03 Nov

(don’t bother counting. it’s another double drabble)

“Hang in there! It’ll be your turn, soon.”

Easy for her to say. Bowser watched the last of his siblings get carted away no more than 6 hours after they’d been put on display. How had he managed to have the rotten luck of being the only black dog in a litter full of brown and tan spotted puppies? He sat down in the too-big pen with a huff.

People came and went. They’d spend a moment or two by his cage and just as he was getting his hopes up, they’d walk on. Parents would shuffle their over-eager children towards more “acceptable” pets. He spent the night whimpering with the rest of the dogs in the puppy room.

The next morning a family appeared. Bowser was so bummed he barely twitched his tail as they approached. The parents and the girl walked by, but the young man lingered at Bowser’s cage. Bowser picked his head up and sauntered over. He nudged the boy’s hand and gave it a tentative lick.

“I like this one, Mom,” he said to his parents with a smile. “He’s like me.”

His parents exchanged a look that could only be called significant. Bowser began to believe.


Puppies and Rainbows: Roark

02 Nov

Roark hated everything. He didn’t really mind his friends, but everything else was on his shit list. He hated color so he dressed almost entirely in black. He hated school because it came easy to him and classes left him bored and cranky. He hated his parents. They were perfectly content letting him be as angstful as he wanted instead of fighting him like his friends’ parents did. He hated his hyper little sister, Bethany. He hated that she got straight A’s in her first semester of middle school and got to pick out a dog.

Then Roark saw Bowser.


Puppies and Rainbows: Black Dog

01 Nov

Bowser was a black dog. He knew this was a bad thing, because his foster mother told him. She would say things like “Poor Bowser. You’re so sweet, but it’s hard for black dogs like you to get adopted.” Then she would scratch behind his ears a little more and kiss his head.

When he and his family were deemed big enough and old enough for adoption, they were brought back to the shelter. They were so cute the volunteers wagered on who would go first. Nobody bet on Bowser.

Even with the rainbow collar, he was still a Black Dog.

(Don’t worry about him too much, I’m pretty sure this whole week is going to be about Bowser)


Darwin’s Drabbles: Halloween

31 Oct

Darwin began dreaming of Cleopatra when he was 14. Most were mundane but a few were special. One was a wedding. One they were old, sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t think she was “real” like his other dreams, because how could she be?

At a party when he was 23, he met her. Without his gift, he might not have noticed her. He certainly wouldn’t have found the courage to approach her. She was just a girl in a costume and not the Queen of the Nile, but he knew in an instant she was the girl of his dreams.


Blood: Brother

30 Oct

Two women sat in a dark booth of a pub, bundled tightly against a cold the other patrons could not feel.

“What do you think of him?”

“The eyes are right.”

“And the hair is perfect.”

Feeling their eyes on him, the man turned and raised his glass to the women. Emboldened by their matching smiles, he walked over.

“Do you think Mother will like him?” One said to the other. “She’s so particular.”

“If not, he’ll make a fine snack tonight.”

She smiled at the man, revealing her extended incisors. He tried to panic, but he’d already made eye contact.


Theme Breaker: Listen

28 Oct

(This has nothing to do with literal translations of blood idioms, which is this week’s theme. I just couldn’t resist writing this after most of this happened to me on the way home today)

She ignored the warnings.

The slow-moving cashier who struggled with the plastic bag. The iPod, shuffling from “Take 5″ to “Living on a Prayer” while she drove. The funeral procession that forced her to wait through two light cycles. The driver going 30 in the 45 when she wanted to go 60.

They frustrated her, certainly. But instead of taking the moments to slow down, Instead of rolling with the direction she could have taken, she drove faster and more urgently.

She arrived at the dry cleaners just before closing. The man hiding the the semi-automatic rifle in his jacket held the door for her.