Drabble drabble drabble

[Mata Hari]

A drabble is a story that is exactly 100 words long (not including the title). I wanted to do some writing but I didn't want to do anything too long so I thought I'd write one. Here it is.

Far Above

Dear Mum,

I know you didn't think I'd make it up here, but here I am! I hope this pigeon reaches you safely.

It's very dark and cold up here - the stars are out even during the day. Luckily I thought to pack a few extra blankets, and my sandwiches will never go off!

It's amazing to look down and see the clouds far below me. Can't see any towns or cities, though. Hopefully I'll come back home soon. I'm not sure how to slow down, but don't worry, I'm sure I'll figure something out.

Wish you were here,
Maisy

I'd like to encourage people to write their own drabbles, even if they don't think they can write. Because... what do you have to lose, I guess.

[Ivy]

i should have saved my 150 word essay on why to include waluigi as a playable character in smash

[Skully]

Sounds fun! Here's one working off some figurative language that's been stuck in my head for months;

The door let out a groan worthy of a hungover ape, as in she strolled; legs longer than Father O'Malley's sermons and hips that swung like the bells of St. Mary's. Calling her trouble would be like calling a South Pacific typhoon a drizzle in a mud puddle. Her lips, bloodied crimson, shimmered in the flickering death throes of the moth hitting the hanging light bulb above my desk. They parted like a field of roses bending in the breeze, preparing for the monthly aria of my doom.

"Rent's due, Murph."

I jumped out the window; never looked back. Dames...

[Mata Hari]

Sounds fun! Here's one working off some figurative language that's been stuck in my head for months;

The door let out a groan worthy of a hungover ape, as in she strolled; legs longer than Father O'Malley's sermons and hips that swung like the bells of St. Mary's. Calling her trouble would be like calling a South Pacific typhoon a drizzle in a mud puddle. Her lips, bloodied crimson, shimmered in the flickering death throes of the moth hitting the hanging light bulb above my desk. They parted like a field of roses parting in the breeze, preparing for the monthly aria of my doom.

"Rent's due, Murph."

I jumped out the window; never looked back. Dames...

I'd avoid saying that something's parting like something parting, but other than that I enjoyed it. You really hit the whole noir-overblown-analogies thing. So good job!

[Skully]

Sounds fun! Here's one working off some figurative language that's been stuck in my head for months;

The door let out a groan worthy of a hungover ape, as in she strolled; legs longer than Father O'Malley's sermons and hips that swung like the bells of St. Mary's. Calling her trouble would be like calling a South Pacific typhoon a drizzle in a mud puddle. Her lips, bloodied crimson, shimmered in the flickering death throes of the moth hitting the hanging light bulb above my desk. They parted like a field of roses parting in the breeze, preparing for the monthly aria of my doom.

"Rent's due, Murph."

I jumped out the window; never looked back. Dames...

I'd avoid saying that something's parting like something parting, but other than that I enjoyed it. You really hit the whole noir-overblown-analogies thing. So good job!

Dang it! Didn't do any self-post-editing, so I missed it! Thanks for catching that! Probably change it to "bending" for alliteration's sake.

[Bedlam]

Rabble rabble rabble.

this is titled:
Day After Day

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

That infernal rhythm seemed to stretch on into infinity. Every moment a eon, winding their way lackadaisically around a dull grey face.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

Surrounded by people, but alone here. No barriers keep us from speaking to each other but our own dread. Some may try to communicate, but are swiftly split apart.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

An endless cacopheony of shouting, raging voices. Slanderous words and sobbing tears spring up from every direction, endless.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.

Finally, and end to this draws near. Free, they all say;

"Man, call centers suck."