Tag: drabbles

The Science of Tequila

The Scintilla Project

 

“Tequila makes me do wild things…”

New boyfriend lifted an eyebrow as he ordered the shots, “Oh?”

“Yup, I become an entirely different woman…”

“Really,” he slid the salt shaker towards me.

“Yup,” I took the shaker and went to salt my hand.

“Wait! Do me!” My friend Shannon offered me her salted neck.

I shrugged, licked the salt, took the shot, and bit into a slice of lime.

“See? Wild things,” I smiled at Boyfriend.

“I think we’re busted…” He gestured towards the other end of the bar.

I turned to see our 3rd period physics teacher.

“Ruh roh…”

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

The Scintilla Project is a fortnight of story sharing. For more info or to get involved, visit the Scintilla Project website.

Better: A Drabble

He pushed through the door after a very long day.

“You’re feeling better,” he called out as a greeting.

“Hmm?” She barely looked up.  She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hunched over her ukulele, experimenting with different chords, trying to find the right one.  He knew better than to think she’d heard him.

“You must be feeling better.  You’ve got your uke in your hands,” he kissed her on the forehead. He also knew better than to interrupt when she was having a moment with her uke.

“I’ll start dinner?”

“Hmmm?”

He smiled to himself, “Yeah, I’ll start dinner.”

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

Cartoons: A drabble

She lay with her head in his lap, watching him as he watched the TV.  It was mostly quiet in the house.

“There are times when I see these little parts of you that make me sad you don’t want to be a father,” She said.

He moved to touch her face with his hand, his eyes still on the TV screen.  There was a pause. She wondered if he’d heard her.

“Because I like cartoons?” He asked after a while.

“No, you ass.”

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. She smiled.  He knew exactly what she’d meant.

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

Disconnect: A Drabble

“Here,” She handed him a folded piece of paper.

He lifted an eyebrow, “What’s this?”

“Try reading it,” She said with a smirk and a hand on her hip.

He unfolded the page and skimmed over the short note written in her familiar handwriting.

He furrowed his brow, “Okay…”

“What?” She looked at him, waiting for him to connect the dots.

“It has an emotional disconnect.”

“No,” She disagreed.

“What’s it supposed to mean?”

She took a deep breath and let it out quickly, “Nevermind.”

She took the paper from him, crumpled it and tossed it in the rubbish bin.

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

Quick: A drabble

She was waiting for him by the door, her eyes found him the second he stepped into the room. She grabbed his arm as he walked by and leaned in to whisper in his ear. He glanced at her casually, but she knew he’d heard her.


Five minutes later, he’d caught up with her, slipping silently into the room. She closed the door behind him and locked it. The next second, hands were everywhere. His lips brushed hers, they were peeling clothing off each other.


“I’m not good at these,” he muttered.


She smiled, “I’ll be the judge of that.”


drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

Walls: A Drabble

“Hey,” His voice was softer, he reached out to her.

She pulled away violently. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

He stood there, frozen on the spot. He held his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture, “Okay…”

She looked at him, her gaze full of fire and ice; she was angry, but she’d switched off, wanting nothing from him.

“Don’t do that,” He said quietly.

“Don’t do what?” She said it like it was a challenge.

“Don’t pull away from me, don’t cut me off.”

“Too late,” she crossed her arms tightly.

He knew it; her walls were back up.

 

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

The Anniversary: A Drabble

“Happy Anniversary!” He pushed the package towards her, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

She reached for it, pulling the ribbon on the package and slid her finger along the seam of the wrapping. As she’d suspected, it was a little jewelry box. She had a flash of déjà vu, thinking of a very similar box given to her on this day, two years earlier. She absent-mindedly twisted her engagement ring.

“We’re not ever actually going to get married.” She said. It was a statement.

He fell silent.

“I can’t do this anymore,” She handed him the box and left.

 

drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.