Happy Sunday. Here’s another drabble we love from the archives.

woman-coffee-cup-mugBy Kazz

editors pickFor the next hour I am just me.

I sip coffee and watch the people.

A young man hooks my gaze. He is writing. You don’t often see that these days.

He is young but … attractive. I wonder if he would glance at me and see past the shell of motherhood. We would talk of art and of writing and of how it could never work. Then have a delicious affair.

He looks up. I quickly look away and think of groceries.

As I leave I catch the eyes of an elderly man. He averts his gaze. He looks uncomfortable.

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By Phil Town

I went to visit my mother and had some business in the office. There on the counter, a photocopied …

Deer & rabbits & floral tributes.
Please be aware that there are deer, rabbits and squirrels residing in the surrounding woodlands, and there may be the possibility of some floral tributes being eaten.”

Now, my mum was passionate about all animals – she watched TV nature programs around the clock, and would go out in thunderstorms to save stray cats abandoned under scrapped cars.

So next time, I’m leaving roses. White ones.

A bloody great big bunch of ‘em.



By Nerisha Kemraj

He never saw the tears freeze at the corner of her eyes, he only saw her smile. He never felt her body tense as he hugged her goodbye … too eager to leave. He missed the everyday struggles of her life as he wrapped himself in his own. Her world darkened because the light representing him slowly faded. Shadows danced as the stifling walls caved in.

Jesse knew she had to change things, but how? Maybe change would come soon? She hoped. The weight of the world weighed her down. She fell, and no one was there to lift her up.



By D.A. Donaldson

“It’s called The Drabble,” she said. “One hundred-word limit.”

He sneered, “And you call that being published?”

“It’s something. It’s a start. It’s better than your Letters to the Editor.”

“At least people read those!”

“Do they? When’s the last time you heard from a reader?”

“Gimme a break,” he swigged his beer, “I don’t see any book deals coming out of your online dribbles.”

“Drabbles,” she corrected. “And my last post got 147 likes. At least I know that someone is reading and enjoying what I write. And you know what else? You just inspired my next submission!”

Multiple Personalities


By RLM Cooper

I often think I’m insane. I hear voices. And there are multiple personalities all trying to get out. Male. Female. Old. Young. Black. White. Some are heroes and some wanted by the police. I’ve been places no one has ever gone before. And I know things. Things no one else knows. Or will ever know. My brain aches with it all. And I’ve done things. Scary things and boring things, too. The voices speak to me. They demand to be heard. Sometimes it’s frightening. But I … excuse me a second.

“What is it, dear?”

“Your editor is on the phone!”

The Interview


By John Malone

I’m being interviewed today
For a job.
A cleaning job.
I shave, shower, put on good clothes.
Tidy the place up.
Ten minutes later his car pulls in the driveway.
He comes in, casually dressed, introduces himself.
Sits down.
Looks me over.
Asks questions. Probing questions.
I wince a little.
Relax, he says as he stands up, shakes my hand, smiles.
Now let’s see the house.
I take him through. Show him the vacuum cleaner, the mop, the bucket.
Now, he says, when would you like me to start?



By Dawne Zirley-Leight

You don’t realize this (probably)
But in you
I see the promise
of an infinite horizon and
is why
I wait.

Sometimes lately,
During quieter moments
(all-too fleeting)
I find the space to be mindful
To breathe
To choose
which warm threads will line the womb into which I crawl
And there you are
waiting also
for me.

If you see this (and
I doubt you do)
think of me
of anything
at all.