Krondstadt. March 1921. [5.6.2011]

The door to the war room burst open and a soldier entered, out of breath. The cold draft that swirled in behind him disturbed the maps and papers strewn across the large table. It chilled the officers who looked up in surprise at the noisy intrusion.  

“They’re coming, sir!” The red-faced soldier gasped. 

The officers faces grew grave. They knew to what the soldier was referring. Their rebellion was coming to a close before it started. They were stranded in ice, their navy useless. 

“The Bolshevik army!” he cried. 

The fearful shouting and gunshots began. Chaos began.

“They’re here.”

The First Weekly Words Title

Hello Everyone!!

I almost forgot to do this! But then I remembered. So we're ok.

The title for Weekly Words is "Thoughts in Black and White". Post your drabble here on Saturday. If you haven't already, send me your email address and I'll add you as an admin.

Can't wait to see what everyone writes!!

5.5.11 glisten - a drabble of 100 words

The rain was on and off all day, like a bipolar light switch that just couldn’t make up its mind. One moment it was sunny. The next moment, you’d better have your polka-dotted umbrella handy because the skies opened up.

But in the magical in between moment, the rain and the sunshine met and shook hands like old English gentlemen about to smoke their pipes. When that happened, I started looking for the rainbow.

I craned my neck this way and that, peering through the sunny rain. Up, up, up I looked. And then there were not one but two.

5.5.11 Sugar Cookies and a Diamond

A little old lady with a birch colored sweater and rotund spectacles had just placed her batch of sugar cookies in the oven when there was a knock at the door. She took off her faded oven mitts and stroked her hair back into place.

The knock sounded again.

“I’m coming.” Her voice cracked a bit.

She opened the door.

“Hullo!” A little grubby face peered up at her. “My name’s Pip. And I got something so special to show you.” He held out his hand to reveal a little pebble. “It’s a diamond. I stoled it from the king.”

5.5.11-greasy grimy gopher guts

“What is that?” Charlotte asked, disgusted.

Her brother, Max had been busily working on a concoction all afternoon and six-year-old Charlotte’s curiosity finally got the best of her. She had been pretending to be a princess all day, but decided that even princesses need a break, so she ventured out of her castle to see what Max the prince was up to.

“This,” explained Max with a mischievous grin, “is delicious soup. It's made of great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, mutilated monkey meat, little dirty birdy feet, and french-fired eyeballs.”

Charlotte began to cry.

vacuum (5.5.11)

She walks to the schoolroom closet, grabs the vacuum and pushes it into the living room. She pugs it in with a small gasp. Smiling, she pushes the button that says “on/off” and begins to clean. Quickly she pushes the coffee table out of the way and vacuums under it, letting the cord out behind her. Then, with a huge grin, hits the button that says on/off. I turn back to the book I was reading when she walked back to put the vacuum in the closet. I look up and she says, with a sheepish grin:

“It turns off!”

Guilty 5.5.2011

The room stared hard at him, alone in the center, his hands bound in front of him. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The flat, controlled voice asked.

 The young man shook his head in denial. 

“My lord, it’s obvious, he’s the murderer!” the advisor whispered. 

“No!” the sudden denial came from the tried man. 

“You were like a son! Yet you murdered my own son for his inheritance!” The king shouted suddenly, his voice cracking. 

“He’s guilty,” he pronounced coldly. 

“He was like a brother to me!” the young man cried out brokenly, then dropped his head. 

happy star wars day

they tell you to speak from the heart. the heart is more truthful than the mind apparently. but sometimes even the heart is deceitful. sometimes emotions wrongly set things awry. then they tell you to think before you speak. so do you think before you feel or feel before you think? do you let yourself be ruled by your head or your heart? some people do one or the other, some people do both. some people do neither. those are the tricky ones. you can never know for sure what they’re going to do next.

“i love you”

“i know.”

My Great-Aunt's House

I look at the pictures on her dresser, while she tells me about them.

“This is a picture of me when I graduated nursing school, and this one is of me and your grandmother, oh, some fifty years ago. And that one, the one you're holding, is your uncle when he was five years old, and this one…” Occasionally she laughs her wonderful laugh.

I barely remember her house, but certain things will set off my memory alarm, like her piano or her basement. It is so good to be here after so many years finally visiting my Great-aunt again.

5.4.11-BLUE

“What does blue look like, Amanda?”
Eight year old Hannah had been blind since she was born. It was common for her to ask her older sister what the color blue looked like. Amanda's answer was always the same,
“Blue is the cool shock of water when you jump in the pool, and the feeling of a flowy skirt around your legs, it's the evening breeze after a storm, and the sound of three part harmony, it's the suppressed excitement before a birthday, and the smell of rain.”
“I'm sure that blue would be my favorite color.”

The Past That Haunts- 4.4.2011

His name was called and he whirled around. He recognized her voice and a knot tightened in the pit of his stomach. 

“No,” he denied, whispering, face paling. 

He heard her call him again. 

“No, you are dead,” he shouted. His skin rippled as her cold laugh rang through him. 

Here she was.  His one mistake that cost him so much. He messed up badly, costing the greatest in the land to die for him. He still felt the blade of guilt piercing him. He knew his weakness, power. She always knew and promised it. 

“Be gone!” he shouted vehemently.  

5.4.11 effervescent - a drabble of 100 words

Don’t bother remembering her hair color because it changes every six weeks or so. But I can tell you you’ll certainly remember her eyes and her smile. Her eyes sparkle because she loves. Her smile shines because He loves her and she knows it. If you look at her wrists, you’ll see permanent ink telling about His love.

I can guarantee that when you go to her house, you’ll hear good music and learn about New England, especially New England sports. They say she really likes the Boston Red Sox.

I can’t believe you thought the Bee Lady was boring.

5.4.11 This is War

The roar of engines filled his ears coupling with the incessant whir of the propellers. The sky was black. Despite the frigid temperature of the cockpit, sweat covered his face and dripped down his neck. He was breathing hard. Images of crumbled buildings and dislodged persons filled his mind. Burning walls, bombed out shelters, trackless trains, crying children. “This is war, and war kills.” His comrade’s words echoed through his ears.

There were flashes down below; the anti-aircraft guns had been discharged.

The aeroplanes moved into formation.

“Bombs away!” Destruction would fall on foreign soil.

Germany would have to pay.

5.3.11 flutter - a drabble of 100 words

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, I’m Karen, the ultrasound tech who will be doing your ultrasound with you today."

"Alright, Mrs. Henderson. What’s that?"

"Oh. Ok, Lisa. Lisa, I’m gonna have you lay on your back here. I’m going to turn the lights down a little bit."

"Now I’m going to squirt this cold stuff on your belly. I know, it’s a little chilly. I apologize."

"I’m going to put the probe right on top of your belly and maneuver it around."

"There we go. Look at the screen. That little flicker in the chest, right here."

"That’s the heartbeat.”

5.3.11 Color Innovation

“Is that magic!” The old lady shouted, pointing frantically at a rapidly changing image.
“It’s called television,” the young man groaned and turned from the display case.
“But televisions are in black and white.” The old lady shook her head.
“Not anymore. They make them in color now.”
“I can see color!”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“How does it do that? Is it magic?” She pressed her nose against the glass.
“No. All televisions are like that now.”
The old lady clapped her hands with excitement. “How long have they been selling these?”
“Fifty years, Grandma. You own one.”