Tag Archive for: drabble

Not Again

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by Karen Thrower

 

The door to my cabana crashed open, I screamed as a man ran inside backwards, dragging a body through the sand. “What the hell!”

“We need to hide!” He whispered harshly and slammed the cabana door shut. The smell of blood hit my nose, and I realised the body in the sand was bleeding. My eyes focused, and I realised his entire foot was missing!

“Oh my god, he needs a doctor!” The man took his belt and made a tourniquet for his bleeding friend. “What happened?” I asked.

He looked up, fear in his eyes, “The flamingos are back.”

Karen Thrower

Karen Thrower is a native Oklahoman, wife, and mother to a rambunctious eight-year old. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Deaf Education from The University of Tulsa. She is also a member of Oklahoma Science Fiction Writers and serves as the Facebook ‘Wizard’.

 

In Waves

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by David D. West

 

Wave after wave of the pink-feathered birds fell as the group held out, but the onslaught continued.

“How many more of these damned birds am I going to have to kill?” the nun shouted, voice wavering. Beside her, Toto bared his teeth and lashed out at a flamingo. The bird died with a severed throat, Toto turned his attention to the next.

Hux and Aldo collapsed as the flamingos overran them. Their screams were cut short by the sound of honking.

The circle closed tighter.

They made a brave stand that day, but in the end, the world turned pink.

David D. West

David D. West lives and teaches in the Pacific Northwest, which offers the perfect gloomy atmosphere for his writing. Find him on Twitter/Instagram @DavidWestWrites

 

Gone Fishing

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by Pauline Yates

 

Oblivious to my predicament, Bob casts his fishing line into the marsh.

“Did you hear about that dodgy cosmetics factory,” he says. “They trialled a new hair colour on flamingos, but the birds reacted to the red dye and killed everyone. Then the birds escaped, can you believe it?”

“Ah, Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“A little help?”

I’m not sure if Bob will reach me in time, or even if he should try. A bright red flamingo eyeballs me from less than ten yards away. It’s a clever distraction. I don’t see the rest of the flock until they attack from behind.

Pauline Yates

Pauline Yates lives in Queensland, Australia. She writes dark stories and loves bright sunrises.

Website: https://linktr.ee/paulineyates

 

Desperate Times

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by Kimberly Rei

 

War between neighbouring nations had been raging for years. No one alive remembered why it started, they only knew their armies were demolished and they were desperate. They turned to their animals for salvation.

Technology would win the day, they prayed as they outfitted farm beasts for battle.

“Incoming! Take cover!” The alarm, so well-known, jarring, and feared, rang out with a clarion horn.

Great flocks of garish pink swept overhead, dropping bombs on bovine battalions. Lasers shot from cybernetic red eyes took out swaths of armed sheep.

The enemy was just as desperate. And they had an air force.

Kimberly Rei

Kimberly Rei does her best work in the places that can’t exist… the in-between places where imagination defies reality. With a penchant for dark corners and hooks that leave readers looking over their shoulder, she is always on the lookout for new ideas and new ways to make words dance.

Website: studio-rei.mailchimpsites.com

 

Ready-to-Wear

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by N.E. Rule

 

Elle stares in wonder at the profusion of bright clothing draped throughout the forest. “Jamie, who dresses trees?” Some trunks were wrapped in shreds, others were more freshly clad. “Check out this!” A sapling grew straight through a pale pink onesie. Twigs sprouted from the armhole in a cheerful wave.

But a patch of red berries has caught his attention. “Mmm,” his mouth already stained.

“Those smell amazing.” She swallows a handful.

Wind surrounds them and sighs in contentment. Then Elle’s throat itches and a green vine shoots from her mouth to wrap around her neck like a fashion accessory.

N.E. Rule 

N.E. Rule attended Toronto’s Ryerson University for both creative writing and business communications. Her writing portfolio includes software specs, marketing copy, and training materials, however, her passion is fiction. The characters in her head are getting louder and refuse to wait for her spare time to come out and play.

Facebook: @NERuleWriter

 

 

Dirty Boulevard

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by Steven Holding

 

Skid Row: rock bottom of the barrel and the bottle. A place where every kind of bad dream has been and gone. Here, the dregs dredge up their sins; beg to escape the pain of sadness, seeking absolution from a damned mad god that’s seen all a man is capable of.

The spirit of the street itself.

Under its sacred gaze the scared and scarred are cared for, tightly held within the deity’s embrace of hazy nights and crazier days. Who would willingly choose such confusion?

Perhaps those few who know that what we feel to be real is illusion.

Steven Holding

Steven Holding lives in the United Kingdom. Most recently, his work has appeared in CTRL ALT DEL from Black Ink Fiction. You can follow his work at www.stevenholding.co.uk

 

Sand Castle

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by Gully Novaro

 

The sand castle occupied a vast area. Twisted towers, ornate walls, a deep moat. Hard to believe this architectural wonder came from a non-verbal five-year-old.

Andy didn’t need words, the beach communicated through thoughts and feelings. Those had always been enough.

Anger approached them; the beach grew alert. Andy sent a soothing melody.

Anger walked through the castle, destroying it along the way. The beach reacted to Andy’s sadness with rage. There was no soothing melody this time.

The sand opened beneath the teenager’s feet and swallowed them. Andy and the beach recovered their peace and started fixing their castle.

Gully Novaro

Gully Novaro is a non-binary writer from Buenos Aires, Argentina, with a love for all things out of this world. Their work aims to explore feelings of dread and solitude, in the genres of horror, sci-fi and fantasy. You’ll be able to read some of their work in upcoming anthologies Wyrms, Planetside and the Dystopian Showcase edited by Shacklebound Books. 

Twitter: @GullyNovaro

 

The Forest Never Forgets

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by Andrew Anderson

 

Evie always walked alone in the twilight woods.

She would walk the trails, litter-picking and marvelling at the sounds of the evening. This was an ancient place, one she cared for, which in turn respected her wish for solitude.

Not tonight, though.

It had allowed someone else into her private domain—a man waited ahead in the clearing. She stepped forward to confront him when her foot caught an oak root.

It bought Evie enough time to see the silver flash of a knife in the half-light, and for the forest floor to open, swallowing the man into its soil.

Andrew Anderson

Andrew Anderson (he/him) is a writer of fiction from Bathgate, Scotland. His work has previously been published by National Flash Fiction Day Press, Sampson Low Ltd., Selcouth Station Press, The Drabble, Black Hare Press, Eerie River Publishing, Paragraph Planet, Steering 23 Publications and Blood Song Books.

 

Nothing Lives Under This Dirt

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by Eric Clayton

 

They light their fires in a circle, an old wives’ tale ward to keep away they-know-not-what.

But in the darkness, the flames illuminate my sky, warm my back, reveal the presence of those who trespass upon my sacred temple. Every twig that snaps under their ill-fitting boots I deem a sacrilege.

But still, they come, these hairless, godless creatures. And the leaves turn brown.

When my wrinkled hand bursts up and through the stone and dirt, they know they’ve made a mistake. Their screams betray their cowardice. To run, or to bow down and worship?

I eat the worshippers first.

Eric Clayton

Eric Clayton is the author of the book, Cannonball Moments. His essays on spirituality, culture and parenting have appeared in America, NCR and more. He lives in Baltimore, MD, USA with his wife, daughters and cat, Sebastian.

Website: ericclaytonwrites.com

 

Tree Mother

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by Kai Delmas

 

The girl crashed through the forest shrubbery seeking aid, refuge, salvation.

Her fear tingled my leaves and thrummed through the earth into my roots. Her gods were not going to save her, but I could.

I opened my trunk to let her slip inside. I absorbed her tears and hushed her whimpers, hugging her in my motherly embrace.

Men were on her trail. I slapped the pursuers with my branches, tripped them with my roots. They would not come near her or me.

Bewildered, they tucked tail and ran without finding her. No one would ever find my sweet child.

Kai Delmas

Kai Delmas loves creating worlds and magic systems and is a slush reader for Apex Magazine. He is a winner of the monthly Apex Microfiction Contest and his fiction can be found in Martian and is forthcoming in Tree and Stone and several Shacklebound anthologies. Find him on Twitter @KaiDelmas.