A single red rose rested on the tombstone, long stemmed, dethorned. He placed one there every month, on the 28th. She liked that date, it was their day.
He'd never expected to find anyone to love, and he'd spent every day expecting her to wise up and leave him. But by the end, she'd convinced him that she truly loved him, and had almost convinced him he deserved her, that he deserved her love. But he still didn't quite believe it.
But today, as she came back to him, and held the rose up? Now he may well believe it.
Drabble: an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length, not including the title. Mathew Sforcina: A guy intending to post one a day as a challenge to himself. You: You. FAQ: Here!
Saturday 30 September 2017
Friday 29 September 2017
Knowledge, Tools, Time
The right knowledge, with the right tools, at the right
time, can perform miracles.
Seriously, understanding of chemistry and enough raw
materials, back in the day, and you could get a religion formed around you
pretty quickly.
Most people strive to have the first two, so as to be ready
for the last one. Others spend their lives trying to be able to ensure they can
get to the last one.
But in the end, how you are judged is if you pulled off the
miracle at the right time.
It’s how you acted in the wrong times that matter.
Thursday 28 September 2017
Loaded And Locked
I guess he was a newbie at being part of a gang that was stealing
from an underground casino. While the rest of his buddies were stuffing stacks
of bills into duffle bags, he had his gun pointed on me, and his mouth agape,
as I rolled seven yet again on the craps table. He said he’d not shoot me until
I rolled something other than seven or eleven, and I guess I’m thankful that
for a criminal he was a man of his word, and left with the rest of them without
shooting me, nor checking my loaded dice.
Wednesday 27 September 2017
Sound Off
Although there are twenty-seven known spells that can cause temporary
deafness, a loud noise in a compressed space also works.
The three of them collected themselves off the ground, and
after a few moments of ensuring anyone not dead from the fireball was dead
anyway, they met in the middle and tried to communicate.
After they worked out that none of them could hear, and then
working out none of them had any chalk, they settled down to wait until they
could hear again.
One of those twenty-seven spells could be cast through a
magic mirror and last for years.