drabbletober24

Episode 31: "The Ghost of the Future"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 31, for Thursday the thirty-first of October 2024.

The Ghost of the Future

by Elizabeth Guilt

Peter shucks off the hated school trousers and shirt, and takes more comfortable clothes from the very back of the wardrobe. A double bedsheet, with neat eyeholes, completes the outfit.

Arms raised, the ghost checks carefully in the bathroom mirror.

"Going to the party?" asks Mum.

"Wooooo!"

"Very scary, Pete. Enjoy yourself. Be a good boy."

"Nooooooo!"

In the village hall, vampires and witches are already eating cake.

"Who are you?" demands Frankenstein's monster.

"I am the ghost of Sarah."

They laugh, and shrug, and call the ghost Sarah all night.

Under the bedsheet, she smooths her dress and smiles.

And that's it for Drabbletober 2024. If you've been listening for the whole of October, then thanks for coming along for the ride.

Episode 30: "The Gauntlet"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 30, for Wednesday the thirtieth of October 2024.

The Gauntlet

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Don't put that on, love. Nana says it's cursed. Or bad luck, anyway."

"Don't be such a fusspot! It's just an old glove."

She pulled the tatty old leather over her fingers. Her hand shot to her throat, pinning her to the wall.

I screamed, leaping to my feet and reaching for her wrists.

She spluttered with laughter.

"Oh, mum, your face! I can't believe you thought that was real."

She slid slowly down the wall, laughing until her face turned red and her eyes watered.

She was still laughing when her hand, still around her throat, began to squeeze.

Episode 29: "Security, in a Tuxedo"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 29, for Tuesday the twenty-ninth of October 2024.

Security, in a Tuxedo

by Elizabeth Guilt

They roared into the city. Literally - the cheapest transport in from the airport was on lion-back.

The bars were raucous. Sinuous snake dancers, monkeys pouring drinks with hands and feet, bunnies lounging lasciviously across laps. Bears kept the tourists under control. Just.

Only one spot in the busy centre was calm. Smart black-and-white waiters waddled, cocktail trays on flippers, up to marble tables. You could hear the ice clink as they set the glasses down.

"Why so quiet?" whispered one punter.

"Never underestimate these guys. And no-one wants to admit they were thrown out of a bar by a penguin."

One of the reasons I find penguins so delightful is that they always manage to look exactly like pictures of themselves - something they share with tigers, and pints of Guinness. It is a very satisfactory quality.

Episode 28: "Breaking the Rainbow"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 28, for Monday the twenty-eighth of October 2024.

Breaking the Rainbow

by Elizabeth Guilt

I remember him in kindergarten, throwing stones at the sky. Toddlers are all, at heart, destructive. But he asked strange questions when I taught weather systems in first-year science, and again when we covered refraction in GCSE physics.

He was seventeen when I caught him vandalising the gym.

"What is this?" I demanded.

He shrugged, sigils dribbling paint down the wall. "Weather magic."

I raised concerns with the school counsellor.

It rained this morning. I heard his voice, then I saw the sky shatter. His face drifted past my lab's second floor window as he ascended, blissfully, into multicoloured brilliance.

Rainbows are one of my favourite natural phenomena, and understanding refraction does not make them any less magical or mysterious.

Episode 27: "Flamingo Bread"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 27, for Sunday the twenty-seventh of October 2024.

Flamingo Bread

by Elizabeth Guilt

Whenever she talked about her childhood, Gran always mentioned flamingo bread, the best cake in the world. When she died, we found the recipe tucked away in her bookshelf. It had been a treat, when eggs were rationed; a wartime cake made with mayonnaise and baking soda and red food colouring. When we baked it, it was every bit as vile as it sounded.

Heraclitus said you can never step in the same river twice. Gran knew that. She kept her flamingo bread in her head her whole life, as bright, and pink, and delicious as it always had been.

Episode 26: "The Handler"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 26, for Saturday the twenty-sixth of October 2024.

The Handler

by Elizabeth Guilt

I could hear the fighting from outside. It was one of the hard cases, a small one. It always is, all entitlement and "I shouldn't be in here" attitude.

There were snarls and filthy language as I pulled him off a terrified sporty type.

"Zip it," I snapped, flinging him out through the door. "Get going, the rest of you."

A polite cough sounded behind me.

"Could you help me up? Not as young as I was."

Seventies, I guessed. No wheels, and worn straps.

"Of course, sir."

I picked him up, and placed him gently on the baggage carousel.

Have you ever noticed? If you check multiple bags in for a flight, they come out miles apart at the other end. I've always wondered what they get up to, and whether they had a falling-out in between.

Episode 25: "5 Phoenix Court"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 25, for Friday the 25th of October 2024.

5 Phoenix Court

by Elizabeth Guilt

As Mara leaves the station, she can smell smoke. She hears the sirens before she's halfway up the hill.

She checks the little group huddled on the pavement. The Barries, the Patels. The old man from 2 is sitting on the wall, the new couple are holding their screaming baby. Mrs Delamere is still in Egypt.

Everything she owns is burning. Piles of unread books, cupboards full of childhood treasures she can't give away, wardrobes stuffed with vintage clothes. Letters from old lovers, inherited paintings, paperwork, electronics, furniture...

In the flickering light, Mara dances. She has never felt so free.

Episode 24: "Recognition"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 24, for Thursday the twenty-fourth of October 2024.

Recognition

by Elizabeth Guilt

My neighbour was always odd. Harmless, but odd; staring with a strange intensity whenever we crossed paths. Until he started screaming. Every night, for hours, his howls drilled into my skull.

Then, suddenly, he was gone. Dead, I think. His flat was larger, so I gave notice and moved across the hall.

When a new tenant took my old flat, he looked familiar. Very familiar, but for years, no matter how I tried, I couldn't place his face. Without warning, it struck me in the middle of the night. I knew exactly who he was.

And I started to scream.

Jeffrey Lewis is a New York antifolk hero, famous for his songs and his hand-drawn "low-budget videos". I've been going to see his gigs for probably more than twenty years now. Today's drabble was directly inspired by his song Sad Screaming Old Man.

Episode 23: "Unicorns"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 23, for Wednesday the twenty-third of October 2024.

unicorns

by Elizabeth Guilt

When the barriers crumbled between our worlds, everyone went exploring. Especially the motorcyclists. On whining two-strokes and beefy Harleys, they tore through the winding roads of Fairyland.

The King of the Fairies met the King of the Bikers at the Border, and begged him to stop them.

The Biker King laughed.

"I will send unicorns to guard the border," said the Fairy.

The Biker King laughed harder, and on Sunday morning he lead the roaring engines down the road.

The unicorns waited, bigger than shirehorses. Bull-necked and wild-eyed; jagged metal battering rams bound at their brows.

Heads down, they charged.

If, like me, you've lived in towns and cities all your life, it's always a bit of a surprise how large and intimidating horses can be. I've never quite believed that adding a huge, spiralling horn would make them into gentle and compassionate creatures.

Episode 22: "Yo Ho Ho"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 22, for Tuesday the twenty-second of October 2024.

YO Ho Ho

by Elizabeth Guilt

The last visitor trudged reluctantly into the lashing rain, and Nigel rolled down the shutters. He rested his forehead against the window, enjoying the brief moments of peace.

There was a crash from the main exhibition hall, then muffled swearing.

He drew a deep breath.

"It's ok," he shouted, "they've gone".

Stormy nights were always the loudest. By the time he'd turned the corner, he could hear at least three shanties and a concertina.

The preserved fishing smack rocked on its hydraulic supports, grey figures spilling from the decks.

Nigel sighed, and went to the museum store room for rum.

In my head, this is how all museums work.

If you're a museum curator, please don't write in!

Episode 21: "Great New Ones"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 21, for Monday the twenty-first of October 2024.

Great New Ones

by Elizabeth Guilt

There'd been trouble at Mill 3 for weeks. Rumours, mutterings, machine operators thinking they could bargain with me for an extra penny or another break.

I sent men to break up their meeting. They found the operators chanting, fleshy horror already half-materialised in the circle.

I interviewed one of the survivors, fresh blood over old scars of missing fingers.

"How could you be so stupid?"

He stared through swollen eyes. "We worship Him."

"He cares for nothing. He will consume you, grind through everything around him, and never be satisfied."

He laughed bitterly. "And yet you chose to worship capitalism."

Episode 20: "Afternoon Out"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 20, for Sunday the twentieth of October 2024.

Afternoon Out

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Oh my god, oh my god, Bob's gone!"

"What?"

"He's gone! Just like that! Gone! Oh my god!" Harry snapped his pincers frantically.

"Calm down, calm down. He'll be back."

"He's gone! He saw a bit of food, and then just... Gone! Whisked away!"

"Stop panicking! This is always happening!"

Harry scuttled away in distress.

There was a distant splash, and Bob sidled nonchalantly over.

"Hey!"

"You OK?"

"Me? Oh, fine. Had a great afternoon. Lovely snack, then hung out in a bucket for a while with a couple of ladies. Beautiful shell, one of them. Did I miss anything?"

I was recently walking along the harbourfront in Whitby with a friend. Half a dozen families were dangling lines over the side, hauling up little crabs. The crabs aren't edible, and will eventually be tipped back into the harbour.

We spent our walk wondering what the crabs thought of the whole business.

Episode 19: "Skirmish"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 19, for Saturday the nineteenth of October 2024.

Skirmish

by Elizabeth Guilt

The war ended, and neither side truly won. The farmers brought in the harvest, and worshipped the Autumn God, just as they always had done. The colonists stayed. They settled in the rocky places, and thanked Arhayun for the good food they could buy.

The farmers threw water on Arhayun's bonfires; in return, the colonists toppled The Autumn God's cairns. Amid smoke, and screams, and sliding rocks, the war flashed back into life

The two gods shared a flagon of mead and shook their heads.

"How do we stop them?" asked Arhayun.

The Autumn God shrugged. "I don't know, brother."

Episode 18: "Jump!"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 18, for Friday the eighteenth of October 2024.

Jump!

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Jump!"

She clambered onto the windowsill, her small fingers clutching the frame. When she looked down, she whimpered.

"I don't want to, Billy."

"Hold my hand. We'll jump together."

Billy's strings trailed from his wooden arm.

"It's so far down. I'll die."

"You're going to jump, Judy."

"But I'm scared."

His painted black eyes grew darker.

"Jump. Now."

She stared, dazed, at the people screaming below.

"Jump."

Sobbing, she grabbed Billy and stepped into empty air.

Judy landed in the net the firefighters held, and loving parents scooped her up.

"Judy! You're so brave! And you even saved your puppet!"

I think puppets and dolls get a really raw deal in horror stories. Painted porcelain faces or wooden joints are invariably cast as creepy. But sometimes, your childhood toy is urging you throw yourself from a high window with the best of intentions.

Episode 17: "Sudden Autumn"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 17, for Thursday the seventeenth of October 2024.

Sudden Autumn

by Elizabeth Guilt

Lily loved the oak tree in their new house's garden. After a day of customer complaints swamping her optical feeds, connecting with nature was so important.

Stepping outside, she almost dropped her tea. The oak's branches were bare against the June sky, drifts of leaves piled brown on the grass.

She yelled up the stairs.

"Jase! Have you split up with your girlfriend again?"

A low moan, almost a sob, echoed back down. She sighed. Jase was so selfish.

Outside, Lily ran her fingers over the rough bark until the control panel popped. She wrenched the dial back to midsummer.

I've only just realised that this is the second drabble this October to feature a Lily. This Lily is, of course, not the Lily from "Don't Let Go", she just has the same name.

Years ago, I accidentally wrote a 10,000 word story in which two main characters had the same name. I did wonder why my beta-readers kept getting confused.

Episode 16: "Firedogs"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 16, for Wednesday the sixteenth of October 2024.

Firedogs

by Elizabeth Guilt

The feast-frenzied guests waited restlessly for the firedogs to dance against the midsummer sky. My lord, fury covering his fear, sent us to the cave.

"Prick them out!"

No red glow flickered, and I blundered in assuming it deserted. A hissing bulk loomed above me, then slumped to the floor.

I crept closer: lanternlight bounced back from a dull eye. One scaled beast coiled around the silent other, sweet breath gusting out like sobs. The odour was choking but, without its mate to blow bitter tar, stone cold.

My lord's pikemen would be useless. A firedog could not dance alone.

This story began its life as an 1000-word flash fiction, which contained a lot more detail about my lord's political situation. Decimating it - literally - to make it into a drabble was a very interesting exercise in working out which pieces were actually vital to the story.

Episode 15: "Gunpowder and Wine"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 15, for Tuesday the fifteenth of October 2024.

Gunpowder and Wine

by Elizabeth Guilt

My grandfather refused to go near the bar. "Too many damn idiots," he said, of the tourists who poured in. They bought overpriced jugs of gritty cocktails to toast the revolution 'in gunpowder and wine'.

"Better off with beer," he grumbled.

"Mrs McClusky told us in history that it was just a metaphor, anyway."

"Well, your Mrs McClusky doesn't know shit, either."

"Did you? Really?"

"Wine was too expensive. We drank shots of rum with a teaspoon of gunpowder. Once."

"Why?"

"It tasted foul. But we thought we were going to die that night, and stupid gestures gave us courage."

Episode 14: "Like a Bear"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 14, for Monday the fourteenth of October 2024.

Like a Bear

by Elizabeth Guilt

Good morning, welcome to Sicut Urso. You're right on time.

You've been eating well, I take it? What's that? Pasta for every meal? Ideal, sir, glad to hear it. Ha ha, yes, I'm sure you enjoyed it. But you took plenty of lemon juice too? Great.

Leave your things here, we'll keep them safe. There are fleecy pyjamas in your room.

Ah, I see you've found the bed. Another blanket? Of course. I'll pop a couple of spare pillows over here.

Ready?

Just one sharp scratch.

There, that's the shot done.

Comfy?

Excellent, sir.

We'll wake you in the spring.

I am not a summer person. I really enjoy snow, and frosts, and the lovely dark blue skies you get in the UK on winter afternoons. I actually look forward to winter, and the days when the air stings your lungs.

But I appreciate that's not for everybody.

Episode 13: "Duty of Care"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 13, for Sunday the thirteenth of October 2024.

Duty of Care

by Elizabeth Guilt

Adam always wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help anyone who was in trouble. His teachers laughed, given his grades and his slow reading. Then the apocalypse came, and suddenly careers didn't matter any more. Very few things mattered.

"Get inside, love."

Adam gave his daughter a gentle push. She toddled through the door, oblivious to the groaning wails coming closer up the road.

The undead thing shambled across the farmyard, one arm torn almost away. Adam patted its good shoulder, and led it into the barn. It sat patiently, and he began to sew up the rips.

Episode 12: "We're Adults Now"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 12, for Saturday the twelfth of October 2024.

We're Adults Now

by Elizabeth Guilt

We were around ten, I guess. The summer was hot, bakingly hot, and no-one noticed us building a spaceship behind the greenhouse. We used old plywood, the gears from Emily's bike, and a car battery, and blasted off for the Moon.

We were back in time for tea, of course.

Years later, worn by a messy divorce, I bumped into Emily. We went for a drink, then another. She remembered!

"Want to build another spaceship?" I asked. "Revisit the Moon?"

She shook her head. "We're adults, now."

I nodded, stupid with disappointment.

She smiled. "This time, let's aim for Mars."

Did you build a spaceship when you were little? We did. And we dug a treasure mine in the front garden, and figured out a machine for talking to aliens.

I think we could all do with a little more of that energy in our adult lives.