tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8255644979200155952024-03-18T19:29:01.684+00:00The View from the Blue HouseRob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.comBlogger3031125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-42725500814201585862023-01-15T10:41:00.000+00:002023-01-17T10:43:21.778+00:00The Last Hurrah<p>‘Relax will you. It’s just an abandoned warehouse.’<br /><br />‘Well, it’s giving me the creeps.’<br /><br />‘We’ll just glance it over and skedaddle. Tomorrow you’ll be a free man.’<br /><br />‘Uh-huh.’<br /><br />‘I can’t wait to retire. Lie in. Go fishing. Enjoy life.’<br /><br />‘You hear that?’<br /><br />‘What?’<br /><br />‘Voices. Over there.’<br /><br />‘Charlie, put the gun away.’<br /><br />‘Come-on.’<br /><br />‘Charlie. Take it easy.’<br /><br />‘One last hurrah, okay.’<br /><br />‘Look …’<br /><br />The door flew open, a figure in its frame.<br /><br />The body slam sent Charlie to the floor. <br /><br />A shot discharged.<br /><br />‘What the fuck!’ <br /><br />‘Surprise!’ Harry whispered in Charlie’s ear. ‘You just put a bullet through your retirement cake.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-22066410591814781462023-01-08T14:07:00.001+00:002023-01-08T14:07:07.896+00:00Back from the dead<p>‘Hello, Tess.’<br /><br />‘Jake?’<br /><br />‘Sorry for not calling ahead.’<br /><br />‘They told me you were dead.’<br /><br />‘I was released four days ago. I wanted to be the one that told you.’<br /><br />‘I’ve … I’ve …’<br /><br />‘They explained.’ <br /><br />‘I … Are you a ghost?’<br /><br />‘Sometimes it seems that way. Don’t worry, I won’t cause you any problems. We’ll find a way for a retrospective divorce.’<br /><br />‘Oh god. I …’<br /><br />‘Mummy! Come and see.’<br /><br />‘I’ll let you get back to them.’<br /><br />‘Jesus, Jake. I’m so sorry.’<br /><br />‘Don’t be.’<br /><br />‘But …’<br /><br />‘It was good seeing you again, Tess.’<br /><br />‘Mummy!’<br /><br />‘I’m sorry, Jake.’<br /><br />‘Go. It’s fine.’</p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.</p><p><br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-58822363935832010242023-01-01T14:03:00.003+00:002023-01-08T14:05:22.353+00:00This is life<p>‘Mum, we’re not doing the marriage and children discussion again.’<br /><br />‘I just want you to be happy, dear.’<br /><br />‘And I can’t be unless I have a husband and kids?’<br /><br />‘Life is about family.’<br /><br />‘Life is about living, mum. On your own terms. Not for your parents or for anyone else.’<br /><br />‘Time is ticking on, Cassie. Once it’s too late …’<br /><br />‘I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t stay.’<br /><br />‘Where are you going?’<br /><br />‘I’m leaving, Mum. I want to enjoy my holiday break.’<br /><br />‘You didn’t even wait five minutes to ...’<br /><br />‘Desmond … don’t. We’re your family, Cassie.’<br /><br />‘And this is life.’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-49648175309265343582022-12-25T14:29:00.002+00:002022-12-31T14:31:51.153+00:00Cindernever<p>‘Tess. Wow, I finally found you.’<br /><br />‘I suppose I’m now meant to try on some glass slipper?’<br /><br />‘Metaphorically speaking.’<br /><br />‘This isn’t Cinderella, Marcus. You lied to me.’<br /><br />‘I’m …’<br /><br />‘And I’ve no interest in being a princess; receiving excessive privilege for no reason except marriage to a man who has done nothing to earn his position.’<br /><br />‘I …’<br /><br />‘It’s just a fairytale designed to reproduce the position of royalty in society. Why are there no Cindernever stories where the prince gives up everything for love, including dismantling the establishment to create a republic?’<br /><br />‘Shall I try on a work boot?’</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-18984851315872341132022-12-18T14:28:00.002+00:002022-12-31T14:29:51.001+00:00Time to call time<p>‘Chrissie, what’s with the email?’<br /><br />‘Hi Ms James. You need a formal letter?’<br /><br />‘No. I mean, what’s with the resignation? We’ve just promoted you to department head.’<br /><br />‘And I just got my first Christmas break in five years. I was in the office until midnight before I left and I’ve been asked to work every day I’ve been home. It’s time to call time.’<br /><br />‘I’m sorry, Chrissie. The client wanted …’<br /><br />‘And I delivered, but you need to think about your employees, not just the client. I’m sure you’ll find another slave.’<br /><br />‘Chrissie, that’s not …’<br /><br />‘Merry Christmas, Ms James.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-18451967386146450862022-12-11T14:26:00.002+00:002022-12-31T14:28:07.293+00:00Off-piste<p>‘Maggie.’<br /><br />‘Sarah.’<br /><br />‘What are you doing here?’<br /><br />‘Holiday. You?’<br /><br />‘Work. So, this is a coincident?’<br /><br />‘It’s a ski resort, I’m here skiing.’<br /><br />‘So, you didn’t follow me?’<br /><br />‘Follow you?’ <br /><br />‘I don’t want any trouble, Maggie.’<br /><br />‘I’m sorry?’<br /><br />‘You know, about us.’<br /><br />‘Us?’<br /><br />‘Yes, about us. I don’t want … you know, the media.’<br /><br />‘There is no us, Sarah. You ended it just as it started. Remember?’<br /><br />‘It would still cause a … headache.’<br /><br />‘Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe.’ <br /><br />‘Maybe we could get a drink later? A private …’<br /><br />‘Seriously?’<br /><br />‘For old time’s sake.’<br /><br />‘Even if it might create a migraine?’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-23010297862927970742022-12-04T10:49:00.001+00:002022-12-29T10:50:33.587+00:00One broken thing at a time<p>‘It would probably by cheaper to tear it down and rebuild. And it would be better built.’<br /><br />‘Dad! The point is to restore it to its original condition.’<br /><br />‘What, cold, damp and drafty? There’s a reason these old cottages were abandoned, Janie.’<br /><br />‘And we’ll making sure this one survives. Except without the cold, damp and drafts.’ <br /><br />‘So, not quite original condition.’<br /><br />‘Original with mod-cons, like insulation and underfloor heating.’<br /><br />‘Well, I’m sure your grandmother would approve.’<br /><br />‘She’d be delighted I’m going to live here.’<br /><br />‘She would. But horrified you’ll be living alone.’<br /><br />‘Let’s fix one broken thing at a time.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-68326529050516841312022-11-27T10:34:00.001+00:002022-12-29T10:36:17.572+00:00The family line<p>‘What’s that?’<br /><br />‘Divorce papers.’<br /><br />‘What?’<br /><br />‘Irreconcilable differences. Or to put it another way, I can’t have children.’<br /><br />‘Eric’s divorcing you because you can’t have kids?’<br /><br />‘The IVF has never worked.’<br /><br />‘So why not adopt? Or foster?’<br /><br />‘He wants his own kids; continue the family line.’<br /><br />‘And that’s more important than you?’<br /><br />‘It seems that was my primary role; provide him with offspring.’<br /><br />‘My god, what an ass!’<br /><br />‘What am I going to do now, Sadie? Divorced, barren, not exactly good looking.’<br /><br />‘Plenty of divorced men fit that bill.’<br /><br />‘Sadie!’<br /><br />‘He won’t be making kids once I’ve cut off his balls.’<br /><br /><br /><br />A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.</p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-17648193639596928412022-11-20T10:33:00.001+00:002022-12-29T10:34:43.469+00:00Losing Sarah<p> Harry lowered the letter. ‘She’s never visiting us again.’<br /><br />‘How can she do this to us? What’s everyone going to think?’<br /><br />‘Our daughter is cutting us off, Lorna.’<br /><br />‘Exactly! And I’d arranged for her to meet Brandon and …’<br /><br />‘You’re missing the point.’<br /><br />‘The point?’<br /><br />‘Our daughter never wants to see us again.’<br /><br />‘Nonsense. She’s just …’<br /><br />‘It’s not nonsense, Lorna. Her letter is clear. I can never meet your expectations and I’m always going to disappoint you no matter what I do.’<br /><br />‘That’s not …’<br /><br />‘Isn’t it? Right now, you’re less worried about losing Sarah than what others think.’<br /><br /><br />A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.</p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-11357661723149506682022-11-13T14:36:00.002+00:002022-11-20T14:37:23.200+00:00True colours<p>‘But why?’<br /><br />‘Because I only see you as a friend.’<br /><br />‘How about we try dating? You’ll see me differently then.’<br /><br />‘I’m sorry, Cath, but I’m interested in someone else.’<br /><br />‘But they’re not interested in you. Unlike me.’<br /><br />‘How do you know what they think?’<br /><br />‘Because I asked her and she told me.’<br /><br />‘And she’d tell you the truth?’<br /><br />‘Why wouldn’t she?’<br /><br />‘Because she’s shy and kinda insecure. She’d have said what you wanted to hear.’<br /><br />‘Or she could actually not like you.’<br /><br />‘Or she could. We’ve been dating for two weeks.’<br /><br />‘What? The sly cow.’<br /><br />‘And there’s your true colours.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-12720517400241071062022-11-06T14:22:00.001+00:002022-11-20T14:23:10.410+00:00They're in love<p>‘Are you coming down?’<br /><br />‘I still can’t get used to this. She’s two years older than his grandchild.’<br /><br />‘I thought we weren’t going to discuss this again?’<br /><br />‘When the baby’s born, technically it’ll be my step-brother even though our son will be twenty-three years older.’<br /><br />‘They’re in love, that’s all that matters. Come-on, she’s serving dinner.’<br /><br />‘Which is another thing I can’t fathom. What does she see in the old bastard?’<br /><br />‘Who knows? But she signed the pre-nup; she’ll inherit nothing when he passes.’<br /><br />‘She’ll have the kid.’<br /><br />‘Just remember to call her mom.’<br /><br />‘Please, don’t. It’s not funny, Val.’</p><p> </p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-40998414448442577892022-10-30T21:09:00.000+00:002022-11-07T21:11:41.464+00:00This is the line<p>‘Just loan me the money, Cassie.’<br /><br />‘I might as well just hand it straight over to the bookies.’<br /><br />‘Is this how you treat your father?’<br /><br />‘I don’t earn money so you can just waste it.’<br /><br />‘If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be alive to earn money.’<br /><br />‘If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have grown up fearing the bailiffs and moving from town to town.’<br /><br />‘Just give me the money, Cassie.’<br /><br />‘There isn’t any bloody money! Who do you think is paying the rent?’<br /><br />‘Cass, come-on. These are serious guys.’<br /><br />‘I’m serious, Dad. This is the line. The end.’ </p><p></p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-63306581311618589092022-10-23T10:52:00.001+01:002022-10-30T10:53:58.958+00:00None of us were innocent<p> Tom squeezed a smidgen of glue into the slot.<br /><br />‘Do you remember that girl in our class that used to sniff glue? She was mad for it.’<br /><br />‘She was mad full-stop,’ Fred said.<br /><br />‘Cassie Monday,’ Jenny muttered.<br /><br />‘I wonder whatever happened to her?’<br /><br />‘Probably still living in a different world.’<br /><br />‘She killed herself,’ Jenny said.<br /><br />‘Really? Wow.’<br /><br />‘She was transferred, but the bullying carried on in the new school.’<br /><br />‘Bullying?’<br /><br />‘You two were the worst. Teasing her.’<br /><br />‘Us?’<br /><br />‘Yes, you.’<br /><br />‘We were bystanders.’<br /><br />‘You were enablers.’<br /><br />‘You’re saying that we killed her?’<br /><br />‘I’m saying none of us were innocent.’<br /><br />‘Fuck.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-51690240635805359622022-10-15T10:16:00.000+01:002022-10-15T10:16:14.329+01:00False flags<p>I find it difficult to talk about it. Honestly. He spent the entire afternoon with his secretary. Laughing and joking. They spent over an hour in a small place off Henry Street and left giggling like school children. I thought he’d at least go somewhere with a bit of class, not a run-down place on its last legs. Then that evening he had the nerve to take me out to our favourite restaurant. He’s so dense he didn’t even realise I was seething mad. Then he proposed. After spending hours with her. Would you accept a ring that she’d chosen?</p><p> </p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words. <br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-87687523112169207412022-10-09T14:18:00.004+01:002022-10-09T14:18:22.069+01:00Bosses date too<p>Paula pushed Gavin away and tugged her top over her head.<br /><br />‘Whoa, slow down.’<br /><br />‘Come.’ Paula rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘To bed.’<br /><br />‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’<br /><br />‘It’s an excellent idea.’<br /><br />‘Are you sure you won’t regret it in the morning?’<br /><br />‘Will you?’<br /><br />‘Probably.’<br /><br />Paula dropped back onto the sofa. <br /><br />‘Seriously? You get me all aroused then throw cold water?’<br /><br />‘I didn’t expect you to …’<br /><br />‘Throw myself at you?’ <br /><br />‘Well, yeah.’<br /><br />‘I’d have been waiting forever for you to make a move.’<br /><br />‘You’re my boss.’<br /><br />‘And?’<br /><br />‘It’s …’<br /><br />‘Bosses date too, Gavin.’<br /><br />She kissed him again.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-92108411184406858122022-10-02T19:06:00.002+01:002022-10-08T19:06:58.662+01:00Aim true<p> Kenny’s head thumped against the wheel arch. They had left the road and were bouncing across potholes.<br /><br />Despite his struggling, his hands and feet were still tightly bound with plastic ties.<br /><br />The car came to a sudden halt. Two doors opened and were banged shut. A moment later the boot lid sprang up.<br /><br />‘Get him out.’<br /><br />‘Just shoot him and set the car on fire.’<br /><br />‘And how do we get back, moron?’<br /><br />‘Fuck.’<br /><br />Three seconds later Kenny toppled to the ground.<br /><br />‘Look, guys …’<br /><br />‘Shut-up, Kenny. It’s over.’<br /><br />‘I …’ <br /><br />What was the point? <br /><br />‘Aim true. That’s all I ask.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-3787281994163047652022-09-18T15:55:00.003+01:002022-09-18T15:55:34.973+01:00Thrust, lever, lift and throw<p>Calum thrust the spade into the sod and turned it. Repeated the process to form a grave-sized hole, then stared at the stars until his sight blurred with tears. <br /><br />He returned to his digging, working methodically – thrust, lever, lift, throw. A rhythm at a steady tempo, stopping only to wipe the sweat from his brow.<br /><br />Once the edge reached his waist he clambered out and stretched.<br /><br />The tears started again as he rolled the body in. He really didn’t want to kill her. She shouldn’t provoked him. Shouldn’t have …<br /><br />He shovelled the soil back, the rhythm sapping his regret. <br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-71279495226991393752022-09-11T14:31:00.002+01:002022-09-18T14:33:18.451+01:00No way back<p>‘What do you think you’re playing at Ryan?’<br /><br />‘What?’<br /><br />‘Telling people that we’re dating?’<br /><br />‘Well, you know … I was planning to …’<br /><br />‘You’ve heard of consent, right? That both people have to agree? This is the same. You can’t just universally declare a relationship.’<br /><br />‘I get that. Look, sorry Lorna, I got ahead of myself. Of us. But …’<br />There is no us, Ryan. There’s never going to be an us.’<br /><br />‘I said I was sorry. Can we not just …’<br /><br />‘No, we can’t. Respect and trust, Ryan. You’ve destroyed them both and there’s no way back from that.’<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-20321960931219573212022-09-04T15:15:00.002+01:002022-09-09T15:16:17.545+01:00The slow reel<p> Marie cast the line far out into the lake and started to reel it in slowly. The weather was on the cusp of turning, but that was fine; the rain would bring the fish to the surface. A few moments later, the first drops speckled the surface. Fifty yards to her right a doe and her calf broke the treeline, halting before cautiously edging to the water. The rain was pouring down now. Marie continued to reel the line, not caring whether it lured a fish. That was incidental to process. The deer disappeared into the forest leaving her alone.</p><p> </p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words. <br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-43716253279106038062022-08-28T19:35:00.001+01:002022-09-03T19:37:16.684+01:00Own goals<p>‘Why did you do that?’<br /><br />‘What?’ Cassie checked her make-up in a compact mirror.<br /><br />‘Throw yourself at Ryan,’ Lorna said. ‘You know that Sarah likes him. That she was …’<br /><br />‘Because it’s fun.’<br /><br />‘To hurt people?’<br /><br />‘To see how they’ll react. She fled after one dance. Pathetic.’<br /><br />‘More pathetic to chase attention by being a bitch.’<br /><br />‘What?’<br /><br />‘You need to find new friends, Cass,’ Jane said. ‘We’re done.’<br /><br />‘Seriously? You can’t take a joke?’<br /><br />‘You’re the joke.’<br /><br />‘I’m the one going home with Ryan.’<br /><br />‘You wish. He’s already left to find Sarah. Congratulations on a masterclass in scoring own goals.’</p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /> <br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-13384493340753056292022-08-21T22:07:00.001+01:002022-08-21T22:07:08.132+01:00Darkness soon returns<p>‘I served for three years at the front. As a medical assistant. I followed the men into battle and pulled the wounded back to our lines. I witnessed countless deaths. Seen the yellow pallor draw down from the hairline and life leave their eyes. Seen men act inhumanely. There is nothing glorious about war. It is organised savagery. And it never goes away. It scars you for life. There’s no light afterwards, just a dark haunting. We might laugh – suspend our memories for a while – but the darkness soon returns.’ Nina sighs. ‘You lose a much more than friends, comrades.’</p><p> </p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words. <br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-9096974963286631192022-08-14T18:21:00.001+01:002022-08-15T18:22:07.085+01:00I need to live my own life<p>‘You made the final of the World’s last year. You could medal at the Olympics.’<br /><br />‘We both know that’s not going to happen. There’s a new generation coming through.’<br /><br />‘Let’s not be hasty, Pip.’<br /><br />‘I’ve already made my decision, Dad. I want to leave with my head held high.’<br /><br />‘All the work you’ve put in; your dream.’<br /><br />‘You mean, your dream. I love the sport, but it’s not my job to fulfil dreams you couldn’t realise.’<br /><br />‘Pip.’<br /><br />‘I don’t want to finish hating the sport. Hating you.’<br /><br />‘But …’<br /><br />‘You’re not listening, Dad. I need to live my own life.’<br /><br /><br /><br />A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.</p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-33050141224282376282022-08-06T11:33:00.001+01:002022-08-06T11:33:38.740+01:00I don’t know if our love can hold back that much hate<p>‘Not one person supports our relationship. His manager and record company are petrified his career will implode because he’s dating a non-celebrity. His band and family the same. The fans hate the thought of him dating anyone except them. The press think I’m a gold digger. And my family and friends can’t see a future for us.’ <br /><br />‘And are you?’<br /><br />‘What?’<br /><br />‘A gold digger?’<br /><br />‘I hadn’t got a clue who he was when I met him.’<br /><br />‘What about him?’<br /><br />‘He wants us to try.’<br /><br />‘So what’s the problem?’<br /><br />‘I don’t know if our love can hold back that much hate.’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-14274050781414996202022-07-31T14:08:00.001+01:002022-07-31T14:08:04.531+01:00Heroes die needless deaths<p>The moment Parker opened the car door a shot rang out.<br /><br />He bolted to a low wall.<br /><br />Jackson cowered behind the vehicle, babbling into his radio receiver.<br /><br />‘Come-on,’ Parker urged. <br /><br />‘We need to wait for back-up.’<br /><br />‘She could be dying in there.’<br /><br />‘And so could we.’<br /><br />‘You’re just going to let her bleed out?’<br /><br />‘Heroes die needless deaths.’<br /><br />‘They save the day.’<br /><br />‘This isn’t a Hollywood movie, John. That fucker’s killed before.’<br /><br />‘Will you at least cover me?’<br /><br />‘No.’<br /><br />The first shot sliced through Parker’s neck as he vaulted the wall.<br /><br />‘Idiot,’ Jackson muttered.<br /><br />In the distance, sirens sparked into life.</p><p> </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-825564497920015595.post-23665022571243025432022-07-23T13:04:00.001+01:002022-07-25T13:06:05.911+01:00Seriously?<p>‘If you’d like to meet again, then great. Or if you’d just like to forget about it …’<br /><br />‘Or we could go back to your place.’<br /><br />‘Seriously?’<br /><br />‘No!’<br /><br />‘Oh. Well, it was nice to meet you.’<br /><br />‘That’s it?’<br /><br />‘That’s not it?’<br /><br />‘When was the last time you dated, Ralph?’<br /><br />‘2009.’<br /><br />‘You’ve been single for thirteen years?’<br /><br />Ralph pulled a tight smile.<br /><br />‘So, why did you ask me on a date?’<br /><br />‘Because I think you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.’<br /><br />‘Seriously?’<br /><br />‘So, I wanted to at least try. It’s fine. I know I’m an acquired taste.’<br /><br />‘But worth acquiring?’</p><p> </p><p></p><p></p><p>A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.<br /><br /><br /></p>Rob Kitchinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05567424969308636082noreply@blogger.com2