Keep pumping

‘Keep pumping.’

Keith kept hammering the plate down. ‘I’m telling you it has a puncture.’

‘So it’s banjaxed as well?’

‘Duh! Maybe you swapped them round before?’

Chrissy stared wistfully across the valley.

‘Maybe.’

‘And you never got it repaired.’

‘I don’t …’

‘Jesus, Chrissy.’

‘Well, we’ll just have to get one of them fixed.’

‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Then we’ll call a tow truck.’

‘I told you we should have flown.’

‘It’s an adventure.’

‘We’re going to be late for my sister’s wedding.’

‘Relax. She’ll be divorced within a year. We’ll make it to the next one.’

 

 A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

The other side

 A body breezed past Barry and onto the pedestrian crossing.

‘What the … Hey, lady!’

A car swerved to avoid the woman.

‘You’re … Hey!’

She continued her path, seemingly oblivious to the traffic.

A car honked its horn.

Without thinking Barry hurried out after her, his arms outstretched as if they would somehow stop an 18-wheeler.

‘Are you crazy?’

Her face was wet with tears. ‘What?’

‘You’re going to get killed.’

‘So?’

‘And you’re going to kill others.’

‘Others?’

‘Come-on.’ He pulled her back to safety.

‘I need to cross.’

‘To the other side, but not the other side.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

It's for the best

 ‘You didn’t tell her?’

‘No.’

‘You just ended it.’

Terry nodded.

‘With no explanation.’

‘I told her we weren’t suited.’

‘And she’s meant to believe that? You’ve been inseparable.’

‘It’s better this way.’

‘For who? You?’

‘For both of us.’

‘And she doesn’t get a say?’

‘What good will it do her?’

‘What good is breaking her heart now doing?’

‘It’s better than watching me die.’

‘Jesus, Terry.’

‘What? It’s terminal, Neil. Six months tops. It’s better for her to move on now.’

‘She’s not going to move on.’

‘You’d better keep this to yourself.’

‘Terry.’

‘It’s for the best.’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

No, no you’re not

‘Chloe! Wow.’

‘Hello, Brett.’

‘You’re a mother now?’

Chloe looked down at the stroller.

‘How old is she?’

‘Just gone two years.’

‘Two years? So, she’s …’

‘We have to go.’

‘Wait. I’m a … a dad?’

‘No, no you’re not.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘You’d moved and changed your number.’

‘Well, my parents then?’

‘I did. They told me to get an abortion.’

‘What?’

‘That’s between you. We’re going now.’

‘Wait, Chloe. Can we talk about this?’

‘No.’

‘Can I at least say hello. Hold her.’

‘No.’

‘But I’m her father.’

‘No. You were just a torn condom.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.