Tag: drabble
member name: Sheila Deeth
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October 31, 2009 11:48 AM EDT --
They say the fabric stretches thin one night a year and think it’s those in graves that rise to haunt with curious rage. But I wait here, imagined fear on brightly painted page. I look . . .
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October 28, 2009 01:08 PM EDT --
The waves’ sweet susurration sounded softly in his ears. His tears blended with sea-salt spray portending eventide. The man who watched the waters turned away, his thoughts for sorrow and the . . .
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June 24, 2009 04:10 PM EDT --
I couldn’t work out where I stood.
“They ought to put a brake on it,” they said, “force 'im to eat.” But it almost sounded noble. He wasn’t that much . . .
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July 28, 2009 09:00 PM EDT --
Water rippled over moss covered stones , lending life to trailing fronds. Water under the bridge, David thought. Water that washes and cleans, while the July moon hung above the tree tops , gazing . . .
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July 29, 2009 01:59 PM EDT --
I loved her but love makes you blind. I didn’t ask. She didn’t tell. Her strangely fearsome hell.
Today, I’d question everything and risk whatever loss, except I’ve . . .
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August 28, 2009 06:26 PM EDT --
When they were small their mother used to tell them to go out and play. “Look, the sun’s shining,” she’d say, but they just turned away. “You need sunlight. It’s . . .
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October 14, 2009 04:53 PM EDT --
Sir Geoffrey, swashbuckler, waved his sword as he rode, sweet Emily’s ribbons and lace trailing from the hilt. A happy smile decorated his handsome face, and the only sign of harm was the color . . .
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November 05, 2009 12:39 AM EST --
My Granddad was a lad when soldiers fought in Africa. Then friends dropped, caught in trenches; he got gassed. The English streets popped afterwards to shrapnel’s burning swell, and then… . . .
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April 21, 2009 01:42 AM EDT --
Her morning voice was like the whispers heard on a summer’s night, clear as rinsed crystal. Champagne bubbled to the rim of her laughter and honey dripped its scent from the waking hive. Her . . .
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June 15, 2009 02:43 PM EDT --
They say you should always take snacks on trips through time. But don’t share with the locals or you’ll contaminate the journey back. I took an apple.
Of course, the fruit on . . .
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June 18, 2009 12:27 AM EDT --
White-haired Zinnia led the way, scrambling over rocks and rubble to the child. We watched, knowing our world was already lost.
“This one,” Zinnia said. Red-haired Columbine held the bag. . . .
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July 16, 2009 01:41 PM EDT --
They stood round the counter drinking wine, discussing beer. “Porters are good.” One listed all the local brews while the other compared them with nationals, a language of their own. Then . . .
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August 05, 2009 12:46 PM EDT --
I’m typing words on a page, and letters fly from keyboard to screen. My muse is hitting the high notes, laughing today, as fingers perform a percussion of clattering dreams.
And . . .
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September 09, 2009 03:20 PM EDT --
Oregon summer: sun like warmed honey dripping, sweet bees humming, and students lying in drying grass with straw-blond hair like feathers strewn around.
“Your turn Em!”
. . .
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October 07, 2009 10:23 PM EDT --
“We shall fight them on the beaches.”
“Who?” I asked, but Grandpa was dreaming again, reciting remembered lines from Churchill and war.
“We shall fight…” . . .
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October 28, 2009 01:50 PM EDT --
Kay's prompt and my response:
The library has been burned to the ground. Who would do such a thing and why.
“Sticks and stones’ll break my bones but words’ll never . . .
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November 05, 2009 12:53 AM EST --
“Four strong winds that blow lonely.” He’d tasted them all, sand and salt, with dry mineral sting. But the fire in his eyes burned for things he had done and “The good times . . .
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April 15, 2009 12:48 PM EDT --
“Write,” said the voice.
“What shall I write?”
“Write love and hope and truth and certainty. Write the morning watch and the afternoon march, and the evening to heal the . . .
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April 16, 2009 05:03 PM EDT --
John looked across the island and remembered the beautiful city, Laodicea: The aqueduct, that marvel of modern technology; the hospital where they salved the eyes but couldn’t cure foolishness; the . . .
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April 17, 2009 05:42 PM EDT --
John put his pens away and sighed. The desolate landscape faded to a heavenly staircase. He climbed, awestruck, with no words to describe the things he heard and saw. But the voice said, “Write,” . . .
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