She's still our mom

 ‘She’s gone.’

‘What do you mean, gone.’ Harry looked up from the workbench.

‘What do you think I mean?’

‘Don’t get snooty. Where’d she go?’

‘Away. She left this.’

Harry held out his hand, motioning his daughter forward.

He unfolded the sheet of paper.

Sorry. I can’t do this anymore.

‘Is that it?’

‘Her side of the wardrobe’s empty.’

‘I guess that’s that then.’

‘You need to go after her.’

‘What’s the point?’

‘You’re the cause of this. You need to fix it.’

‘We’ll survive.’

‘You’ll survive. What about us? She might be our step-mom, but she’s still our mom.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

Protect her from the witch

‘You really are clueless, aren’t you?’

‘What?’

‘Jesus. Person C likes Person B who likes Person A. Person
A is shy and insecure. Person B lives in his own world. Person C is devious and malicious; she thinks that by driving Person A away she’ll be able to seduce Person B.’

‘I’m Person B?’

‘Duh!’

‘So, Cindy left … because of Jane?’

‘What do either of them see in you?’

‘But I like Cindy.’

‘Then tell her that and protect her from the witch.’

‘Jane being the witch?’

‘God, Ryan; yes! And Cindy is the princess you need to rescue.’ 

 

 

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

I don't need friends

‘Wait!’

Carol tugged an earbud free. ‘What?’

‘If you need anything …’ Darren trailed off.

‘I won’t.’

As Carol stepped forward, Darren grabbed her wrist.

‘Let go.’

Darren loosened his grip. ‘Sorry.’

‘Just leave me alone.’

‘At least take my number. In case you need help.’

‘I don’t need your help. Or anyone else’s.’

‘They’ll keep hassling you.’

Carol shrugged. ‘It’s nothing I’m not used to.’

‘It’s no harm to have friends.’

‘I don’t need friends.’

‘Don’t want or don’t need?’

‘Both. They only betray you.’

‘Well, I won’t. Just take my number.’ Darren shoved a note into Carol’s pocket.



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

Make a new life

The woman was hunched forward, hands on her knees. ‘You go on.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’

‘I’ll hide. If we stay together we’ll both be caught.’

‘Mom, you have to keep going.’ The man stared anxiously down the dark laneway.

‘I’m too slow. You go. I’ll catch you up.’

‘We’ll never find each other.’

‘We don’t have time for this. I’ll hide; you go on.’

The sound of voices drifted up from the valley.

‘You can do this.’

‘But not fast enough. Please, go. Make a new life.’

‘Mom.’

‘Go.’

As he crested the ridge a shot rang out below.

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

Swap from Feedburner to Follow.it

Since Google are shutting down Feedburner - the means by which folks can subscribe via email to the blog - I have swapped to the Follow.it service. If you're a subscriber this means you'll be receiving this blog post via the new service. Otherwise, it should be as usual.

I realise I've not been posting many book reviews lately. I am reading a lot but it is nearly all work related and I'm watching a lot more dramas and movies now I've finally moved beyond the six terrestrial Irish television channels. I do have a handful of books I need to post reviews of and I'll get round to them in the next few weeks.

Spitting image

 The woman passed the table, stopped and looked back.

‘Here we go,’ Martin said.

‘What?’ Carol replied.

‘Wow, you’re …’

‘I’m not,’ Martin interjected.

‘Yes, you are. You’re that …’

‘I hear it all the time, but I’m not him.’

‘Really? You’re the spitting image.’

‘I like to think he’s the image of me.’

‘The image of who?’ Carol asked.

‘You know, that singer,’ the woman said.

‘You’re a singer?’

‘No.’

‘Sorry; I’ll leave you be.’ The woman wandered off.

‘I’d like to ring his neck.’ Martin sighed.

‘You’re really not him?’

‘Will you still date me if I’m not?’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.