Category Archives: Friday Night Drabble Party
Friday Night Drabble Party
Hello, hello, hello!
I am back from vacation! That means it’s time for some sexy, sexy drabble goodness! Grrrrrroooowwwlllll!
Yes, I did just do a tiger claw motion while I wrote that.
Where’d I go on vacation? Rocky Mountain High, y’all! First time in the Rockies. Uh-mazing! I grew up in Oregon, so I miss the big mountains. Loved the dry air.
But, now I’m home and it’s time to get back to the wordsmithing!
But, before we get to the 100 words of gold, let’s pimp!
My new series, Reign of Four, is available in ebook format! It’s space opera! Historical scifi! Medieval space fiction! Check it out!
MEGA is on sale for $.99! Get in on the Team Grendel goodness!
And the last installment of the Stanford Family saga is here! Z-Burbia 6: Rocky Mountain Die! People be LOVING this one!
Oh, and new episode of Writing In Suburbia! Have a listen if you want my take on being a professional full time writer while living the suburban life!
Now, on to the drabble!
My Right foot
Run, you moron, run!
Shit… Where’s my right foot? Shit!
Right foot gone. Suit sealing. Good. No loss of air. What’s that beeping? Okay, some loss of air.
Keep running! Less thinking, more moving, dipshit!
Kinda hard without a right foot. Really fucking hard without a right foot. Fast hobbling is my new thing. I’m the interstellar hobbler. Fuck.
What’s that sound? Where’d that come from? Left? Right? Up? Down?
Down! The damned thing is below me! Under the fucking ground!
Keep running (hobbling)!
Ship in ten meters. Seven. Five. Three. One. Hatch!
Shit… There goes the left foot.
Disclaimer: Take care of your feet, people!
It’s time for a Party!
I know y’all missed the Drabble last week. Sorry, but things got all kinds of crazy as I was going over the final edits on Z-Burbia 6: Rocky Mountain Die. Stay tuned for the release announcement on that one.
But, since we are on the subject of missed Drabble Parties, I want to make sure y’all know that it is summer time which means there is usually a hiatus for the FNDP. While I won’t officially be pausing the drabbles this summer, just know that there could easily be gaps. Especially during July whilst I am on vacation for two weeks.
Just a little heads up, yo!
Now, how’s about some sweet, sweet, sweet micro-fiction?
He Never Had
He downshifted into second, but took the corner too fast. The tail end of the Mustang whipped out, a horn blared, he didn’t give a shit. He never had.
His foot slammed down on the accelerator as his right hand shifted back up into third. His left foot depressed the clutch then let it out again. Every movement of the dance happened in a breath’s time, simultaneous.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the car behind him made the corner easily, barely a wobble or skid.
They said he couldn’t race Death, but fuck if he didn’t try.
Disclaimer: Aim for the apex when you take a curve!
Tonight’s drabble party is postponed. There are several reasons.
I need to work my ass off on Z-Burbia 6: Rocky Mountain Die.
Also, tonight is the kick off for the Asheville 48 Hour Film Project. I’ve participated with Team Long Shot three years running and we’ve won the Audience Award for our group three years running. You can read the screenplays and watch the short films here. I’m trying to get myself mentally prepped for this.
But my last reason there’s no drabble tonight is that one hundred words can’t express what I’m feeling right now as I watch yet another act of extreme racist violence get turned into an “isolated” incident. There aren’t enough words and at the same time I don’t even have the words to say what needs to be said. Better people are expressing it out there. So I will let them.
But I will say it’s time for everyone to do what is right. No matter the cost. Do what is right. And if you don’t know what that is then make the effort to find out. This isn’t about sides or opinions. It’s about right and wrong and what happened was wrong. That is a truth. That is an absolute. You can’t spin this anymore, America. You just can’t.
[Edit: Apparently the funding site Tamiko used does not allow legal defense funds. I am waiting to hear what the new site will be. I’ll keep y’all posted and change the links as soon as I know.]
Okay, so before I dive into the free drabble, which there will be one, I need everyone to take a look at something. I’m serious. This is no BS, people. Each week I give you free fiction, asking nothing in return, all for the enjoyment of you, my readers.
Now I’m asking for something back.
This is real world shit. I’m not asking you to buy my books or asking you to do anything for me. I’m asking you to give a little to help fight a severe injustice that has occurred.
Please read this and then give what you can. I have known Tamiko for years and she is one of the kindest, most generous people in Asheville. She has helped this community so much that to even think of anyone treating her with anything other than complete respect is just mind boggling. This is another example of law enforcement in our country believing they can get away with anything they want. This can’t stand.
Now, on to the free fiction.
All At Fault
“What am I accused of?” the young man asked, but the guards refused to respond.
They dragged him down the dark corridor, his feet skidding and scuffing as he tried to fight them; their steel-toed boots clomping and echoing as they continued their progress, unfazed by his weak protestations.
“What am I accused of?” the young man yelled as he was thrown into the room. The door slammed without an answer. “I’m innocent!”
“There are no innocent,” a voice said from the far corner. The room smelled of feces and piss. “We are all at fault. All of us.”
Disclaimer: Help Tamiko!
Friday! Night! Drabble! Party!
Once again, I present you with some most excellent micro-fiction!
But, before you have a read, maybe you’d like to check out the post I dropped yesterday about all my recent, current, and upcoming releases? Mmmmm? You would? Excellent!
Now, enjoy the drabble!
A kick to the nuts and Walker is down, his hands instinctively going for his crotch, wanting to comfort and protect the already swelling testicles. But the second kick, the one to his ribs, stops everything.
Except for the vomiting. No way for that to stop. Nothing on God’s green earth could stop that. Vomit gonna happen.
When he’s done expelling his sick across the concrete, his body shuddering from the last convulsion before curling into a fetal position, that’s when Monica kneels down and grabs him by the hair.
“Should have run, little rabbit,” she sneers. “Should have run.”
Disclaimer: VOMIT GONNA HAPPEN!