Saturday, September 13, 2014

Washed up on the tide

The tennis ball sailed over the top of the dune, quickly followed by a black and white collie. 

Maria crested the ridge, the full expanse of the bay coming into view.

Buster was at the surf’s edge, sniffing at a tiny pink body.

Maria gasped and hurried down the steep slope onto the beach.  ‘Buster!’

As she dashed across the wet sand she spotted another small body a few yards away.  Then another.  Then dozens more.

She slowed and approached the closest.  It was a child’s doll.  Relieved, she tipped it over with her foot, jumping when it muttered, ‘Mama.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.


Anonymous said...

Oh, that's really excellent, Rob - that last bit is quite jolting.

seana graham said...

That was a great one, Rob.

Rob Kitchin said...

Thanks. I never know how they're going to turn out and it's always surprising when the one's written the quickest turn out well. This one kind of wrote itself and was published within 10 minutes or so of starting it.

seana graham said...

Yes, it has a real kicker of an ending.