Drabbles

[writersart]

The challenge is to write a complete short story in exactly one hundred words, no more, no fewer.  Think of it as a very long haiku without the poetry.

[jeff]

I wanted to summerise my WIP on the '50 word elevator pitch' thread, but i couldn't get it down to 50 words so i've done 100 instead.

Michael becomes ruler of the city of Fashparde when his father is murdered. His plan for revenge risks a war that will tear apart the confederation of city-states.
The triumvirate of Arantarn deposed their king and seems intent on exporting their revolution. Meanwhile, another kind of revolution in their iron foundries seems even more likely to burn away the old order.
Under pretence of supplying military support to the triumvirate, Michael plans a counter-coup. But he’s been tricked by Frederick, ruler of Farstvall. Frederick wants Michael and the triumvirate to destroy each other and break the power of their cities.

[scotty511]

Quite a challenge. This is all I have to offer:

         "As long as we're being honest," I said, taking off my shirt and unfurling my wings to their full glory.
   
   Rebecca's chin struggled to touch her toes as she choked a few words out. I pictured her as a small child, sitting in that same chair as her father logically disproved the existence of God.
   
   "What...the...fu..."
   
   "Shh... don't try to reason, just accept what you see." I cooed.
   
   "Are you an angel?" she stammered, refusing to blink.
   
   "Once upon a time," I replied, "but that was long ago."
   
   My tail snaked out from behind me, betraying my identity.

[writersart]

Bravo, Scotty!  We often forget that Satan was once an angel--

It's hard at first to get the word count right, but the technique forces you to very concisely tell your story.  The discipline that such brevity requires adds potency to the tale.  You must pare your story down to its essence.

[Maxine]

   Kitty howled in rage, why did no one believe her?  They believed Becky when she said that a snake was in the garden.  And they believed Ronny when he told everyone that his dad’s shop had been robbed.  But no one believed her. 
   ‘The girl has too much imagination‘. 
   ‘Her parents should stop reading her all those fairy stories, she’s going to start thinking they’re real‘. 
   ‘ I’m not telling stories, it really is there.  Please look and you’ll see it’.
   All they had to do was look out of the window, and they would see the real, beautiful, magical unicorn

[writersart]

Great try, Maxine.  You're one word short though.  It's a problem I struggled mightily with when I first started writing these.

Please go back and recount.  You can fix this.  Work at it.  I enjoyed your story very much.  Don't give up now.

[Wurdsmyth]

Cold and alone, the girl waits, her heart beating insistently. Freezing rain stabs at her bare arms like tiny ice daggers, but she refuses to shelter elsewhere.

This is where he said he would be. So this is where she waits.

In the warmth of her memories, his face is before her – his fingers soft against her face and his smile full of promise.

“I’ll be there,” he says, “Wait for me.”

Hours pass, each minute a seeming millennium, but she remains.

Then, in the dimness of her failing senses, she feels warm arms surround her.

He is here.

[writersart]

What a lovely story, Wurdsmyth!  I think you may be one word short--do a recount.  But one word is easily fixed.  Don't change anything about your story though.  It's perfect as it is.

The tension is wonderfully maintained until the very end.  I'm so glad it has a happy ending.

[Wurdsmyth]

That is SO weird - the word count tool on my Microsoft Word says 100 words but it's only 99!

Aargh!

OK, I'll try again...

Cold and alone, the girl waits, her heart beating insistently. Freezing rain stabs at her bare arms like tiny ice daggers, but she refuses to shelter elsewhere.
 
This is where he said he would be. So this is where she waits.

In the warmth of her memories, his face is before her – his fingers soft against her face and his smile full of promise.

“I’ll be there,” he says, “Wait for me.”

Hours pass, each minute a seeming millennium, but she remains.

Then, in the dimness of her failing senses, she feels warm, soothing arms surround her.

He is here.


...Hope this is better! Thanks so much for your kind comments... I'm a sucker for a happy ending so that's why I put one there! 

[naturewalker]

The car had overturned. Sudha was still inside - her leg trapped under the broken burning metal.

She was sobbing. It was not the agony of broken bones and mangled muscles. The tormenting question was, "Will I ever dance again?"

When she regained consciousness all faces around her were strangely devoid of expression. She tried to rise and fell back! Where was her leg? A young doctor came with a Jaipur-foot in his hand and strapped it on her knee-stump.

She would not give up. She resolved to fight… stand...walk... run... dance again.

Three years later she danced to victory.

[Terrasque]

Devils of light danced across the walls as the flickering candle under the patterned-cut sheath lit them there.  Edan watched contently as suppressed fear made her heart race and her breathing quick.

In the room next to hers came a crash and the sound of wood splintering.  Then the screams, and the gunshots came.  She could hear her mother cry as they ravaged her, then dragged her through the door.

Soon they came for Edan too, but she did not cry.  She was thirteen, no baby, and she would not fight against the swastikas quivering in the candle light.

[writersart]

Naturewalker,

Character, problem, conflict, resolution

The main elements of narrative are all here. See what you have accomplished in just 100 words! Brava!

She was sobbing. It was not the agony of broken bones and mangled muscles. The tormenting question was, "Will I ever dance again?"

Ah, the pain of uncertainty beyond the pain of physical damage. . .

Terrasque,

You take us into the heart of darkness here.  The only thing that disturbs me abut your tale is that Edan chose to go quietly.  Adults fight against tyranny/chaos daily, often to the death.  But they fight.

Devils of light danced across the walls as the flickering candle under the patterned-cut sheath lit them there.

This is a great sentence.  I particularly loved "Devils of light... ." 

[naturewalker]

Thanks Drabbles!
This is a real life story!

[Gyppo]

Terrasque,

You take us into the heart of darkness here.  The only thing that disturbs me abut your tale is that Edan chose to go quietly.  Adults fight against tyranny/chaos daily, often to the death.  But they fight.
 

Terrasque:  So much in so few words.  Excellent.  I liked the devild of light too.

writersart:  True.  But not all fight 'tooth and claw'.  The recorded history of Hitler's Camps shows this.  Some fought from the start and were quickly killed or beaten into submission as an example. Others inwardly resolved to survive - no matter what - and tell the tale to the world outside.  They didn't know when or even if this chance would come, but their defiance took the form of survival.  And some, going against their religion, took their own lives as a supreme act of defiance or perhaps despair.

At thirteen, Edan would possibly be of an age to mistake dignity for adulthood ;-(

Gyppo

[Narnian Prince]

His eyes had become red slits as the blue grey fog thickened before him.  An eternity had passed and his limbs now felt as though lead weights were attached.  Around him the myriad of voices seemed to increase in volume and alien tones.  His head throbbed as he tried to establish his bearings.

How long, he pondered, and how far had he come?  Time and distance had become as jumbled as the noises in the room around him.  Excruciating pain tore at his chest as his breathing became more laboured.  With a final gasp he collapsed, the record broken.