Tag Archive for: drabble

Thrill of the Chase

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by Sara Omer

When the hunger clouds my mind, I disappear into the woods, putting distance between my wife and the wolf. I lose myself in my transformation, pushing my lupine muscles to exertion.

Exercise soothes my rage, but nothing satisfies my appetite except hunting. I pick up the scent of blackberries and musk. I chase my quarry deep into the forest, taking it down with a killing bite to its neck.

The deer’s gamey meat trembles in its death throes. With a convulsion, my prey transforms into the woman with doe eyes and dun-coloured hair I believed I left safe at home.

 

Sara Omer

Sara Omer is a reader and writer with a story in The Deeps. 

Website: sara-omer.blogspot.com

Like Father…

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by John Dougherty

I guess I never really knew him.

He left after two years, with apologies but no explanations. I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. If he wanted to leave, I didn’t want him to stay.

When he left, the neighbours’ pets stopped disappearing. I didn’t make the connection then.

Four years later. The moon is a fat cyst in the sky, illuminating the mess on the nursery floor. A cat. I think.

“I was so hungry, Mommy,” my son growls.

He has his father’s eyes. They glint yellow from the shadows.

His father’s eyes and, oh God, his father’s teeth.

 

John Dougherty

John Dougherty is a Pennsylvania-based writer, educator, and dad. You can learn more about his work at:

Website: www.johndocwrites.com.

Beware of the Werebear

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by Tracy Davidson

She guides hunters. She knows these woods well. Every tree, every trail, every spot the bears have passed. All the well-hidden dens. Sleeping mothers and their cubs. Easy prey.

She says she doesn’t care such hunts are illegal. If they tip well. In advance. The hunters happily do so. They don’t know she loaded all their guns with blanks.

The hunters hear the growling of a grizzly coming from the woman’s throat. They stare in disbelief as she throws her head back and shifts. Tooth and claw cut short their screams.

The nearest werecubs wake. Momma’s home. With fresh meat.

 

Tracy Davidson

Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet’s Market, Mslexia, Atlas Poetica, Modern Haiku, The Binnacle, A Hundred Gourds, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, and In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.

Too Dumb For…

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by Jeff Currier

“Why’d they send him down here—record’s clean,” Azazel groused, eyeing the mangled soul.

Galzuel tapped the tablet, “Notation says: ‘Too dumb for Heaven’.”

“But where to put him?”

“With pogo-stick-frogger-on-the-autobahn guy?”

“No, his stupidity killed twelve additional people.”

“How about drank-bleach-to-prevent-Covid gal.”

“She was bigoted—didn’t love her neighbours.”

“He’s definitely not a suicide?” Galzuel asked.

“Upstairs says ‘no’, but I’ll double check,” Azazel said. “Why jump off the Grand Canyon with a parachute constructed of duct tape and cling wrap?”

“It should’ve worked,” the soul murmured.

“Limbo then.” Galzuel decided, adding a new notation: ‘Too dumb for Hell.’

Jeff Currier

Jeff writes little stories.  Find more at Jeff Currier Writes on Facebook.

Facebook: @jeffcurrierwrites

Welcome Home

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by Kristin Lennox

Sid was neither fat nor claustrophobic, which made him the perfect burglar. His MO was to canvas a house, then slip into its walls at night, waiting for opportunity.

Wedged between chimney and air duct, Sid heard the promising sound of the door lock, followed by a retreating SUV.

Showtime.

Sid tried to sidle back the way he came…only to find his foot jammed firmly between some pipes.

Shit.

Six hours later, Sid resigned himself to the fact that he’d be discovered when the family returned.

He was. Unfortunately for Sid, it was after three amazing weeks in Yellowstone.

Kristin Lennox

Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.

The Final Embrace

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by L.B. Zinger

January 21, midnight, -40 degrees. Twenty mph winds out of the northwest howled at the windows of the patrol car. The heater coughed and choked, barely keeping up. The cops spied two figures huddled against one of the high mast steel lights on the overpass.

“Look!” Dan pointed to the dark shapes accumulating layers of ice.

“Eejits! It’s blowing like hell.” Des shook his head. “Freeze to death in ten minutes.”

They pulled on balaclavas, zipped up and got out. They saw a classic tableau: frozen hands clawing at mouths, tongues firmly frozen to the steel lamppost, two dead eejits.

L.B. Zinger

L.B. Zinger is the pseudonym of a retired physician living in New Hampshire, USA.

Stuck to the Truck

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by Juliann Wetz

“Skunk!” Chuck raced into a nearby pond to wash off the stench. The January water was icy. Chuck scrubbed himself vigorously, then emerged from the water to discover that his keys had fallen out of his pocket.

Chuck ran to the edge of the pond, but it was no use; those keys were swallowed by mud. Teeth chattering, Chuck knew he had to get out of his wet clothes. He stripped and climbed into the pickup bed, crouching low against the wind. Two days later, that’s where they found him—as they tore his frozen skin from the metal.

Juliann Wetz

Juliann Wetz has been published in dozens of regional and national magazines and newspapers. This is her first 100-word story submission; hopefully not her last.

Sharp Objects

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by C.L. Sidell

“Mikey! What have I told you about running with sharp objects?”

“Sorry,” Mikey replied.

Jesse swiped the scissors from Mikey’s pudgy fist and turned. “And stop chasing your brother around the house.” Jesse rolled his eyes as he stepped towards the kitchen. “I don’t get paid enough for this gig,” he muttered. “These kids are gonna be the death—”

“WHOAAA-AHH!”

Jesse flailed as one of the toddler’s sippy cups rolled under his foot.

The scissors flew from his grasp.

Jesse toppled backward, wide-eyed gaze locked on the gleaming blades as they sliced the air and skewered him in the chest.

C.L. Sidell

A native Floridian, C.L. Sidell grew up playing with toads in the rain and indulging in speculative fiction. Her work has appeared in The Dread Machine, Factor Four Magazine, F&SF, Martian Magazine, Medusa Tales Magazine, and others.

Website: crystalsidell.wixsite.com/mysite/publications

Oxygen Sceptic

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by Chris McGrane

“Scientists and the lame-stream media don’t want you to know this, but humans can live without oxygen.”

“We’ve been brainwashed into thinking we need it, so Big Pharma can sell us overpriced air purifiers. So the international banking syndicates can deindustrialise the West by destroying the logging industry, the mining industry and any others that threaten our supposedly ‘vital’ oxygen supplies.”

“Today, I’ll prove that man can live without oxygen. When I press this button, the airtight chamber in which I stand will be drained of all oxygen. I now press this button and become an example to the world.”.

Chris McGrane

Chris McGrane is a Canberra author. His works have appeared in a number of publications, including the Canberra Speculative Fiction Guild’s anthologies, Next and A Hand of Knaves. In 2020, he sold a short story, “Erasure”, to Daily Science Fiction.

Lawnmower Surfin’, USA

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by Scott O’Neill

The TurfPredator 9000 riding lawnmower stalled out against the trailer park’s lone palm tree, most of a six-pack wedging its accelerator down. A grisly trail of mulched Florida man glistened redly behind the big mower.

Assorted trailer park denizens with deep tans and hyphenated names gawped and gossiped.

“Poor Billy-Bob.”

“What happened?”

“My kid just showed us a video on it. Lawnmower surfing is the new trend.”

“I don’t think Billy-Bob was doin’ it right.”

“He was okay till the wheel hit that gopher hole.”

“What’d he say to you before he started, Bobbie-Jo?”

“He just said ‘Hold my beer’.”

Scott O’Neill

Scott writes reports and memorandums by day and speculative fiction by night, with short works published by various presses. You can find him on Twitter.

Twitter: @wererooster