A Contest: Send Us Your Drabble!

Flash fiction--also known as a "short short story" or "microfiction"--is a form of prose that has become increasingly popular in the digital age. Known for its compressed format, often with a twist ending, flash fiction pushes the writer to present a story in a tight package, to say much while saying little.

One popular form of flash fiction is the "Drabble," a complete story told in exactly 100 words. Here's an example of a drabble that spells out the rules:

Drabble Rules: The One Hundred Word Variant

by David B. Wake

Introduction

Drabble is played sitting around a fire, while  sipping  brandy and
partaking of pleasant conversation with friends.  The first person 
to finish a novel wins.

A Doubtful History

The  first game of Drabble, a name coined in a 'Monty Python' sketch,
was played at the beginning of the last century.  The winner was
Mary Shelley with 'Frankenstein' and Polidori, who didn't actually 
finish during that stormy weekend, came second with 'The Vampyre.'

The Rules

'One hundred words' must be EXACTLY one hundred words: not a 
syllable more, not a letter less.  In addition, up to fifteen
words (title, sub-titles and the like) are allowed. 
Hyphenated-words-are-argued-about.

The End.

We propose a contest (minus the brandy sipping...) Send us your drabble before January 1st (thescop@lyndoninstitute.org), and we'll publish the best three here on The Scop, with the winner receiving a gift certificate to Green Mountain Books! We'll leave you with one more drabble for inspiration:

More Dumb Monsters                 

by James Steel

The monster climbed.  Fighter aircraft, dwarfed by its
massive bulk, fired missile after missile into the scaly armour of
the beast's hide.  Roars shattered the windows of the city and
reverberated far into the hills beyond.  Artillery lined up in the
streets below, ready to deliver their crushing firepower against
the foe.  High pitched screams of terror, barely heard between the
roar of collapsing buildings, announced the creature's hostage to
be still alive.

The creature paused and brought a huge scaly hand towards
its mouth.

"I've got the specimen," it said.  "Beam me out of here and
level the place."

A Trio of Gods

Here is a triptych of verses taken from a brilliant series of poems by Jenny Brown that profile the ancient gods of Greece. Taking a cue from Chaucer's "The Knight's Tale," we've chosen the gods of love, war, and chastity to start with. Enjoy these three for now...there will be more to follow!

Aphrodite

Lady love of many names,
Thine flowing gown is white.
Ever pictured just the same,
Men shall faint just at the sight.

Golden locks and ruby lips,
Thou walkest on Olympus proud,
Corrupting hearts of innocents
Down below the swirling clouds.

An arrow cast from cupid's bow
Strikes love into a lone man’s eyes.
A willful son to keep in tow,
But he will be forever thine.

Lady love, goddess of heart,
Flowers bloom beneath her step,
Alluring in each and every part,
For her grace many men have leapt.

Ares

The clang of steel
Welcomes him home.
His enemy reels,
And he stands alone.

Great god of war,
Noblest of deeds,
The red feel of gore--
What every man needs.

Hero and warrior, yet very misguided,
His godly parents think him a coward.
The feel of pain is too much, he decided
Vain of perfection, the thought overpowers.

The clang of knives
Follows the battle cry.
No matter lost lives,
War rage will never die.

Artemis

Beautiful huntress slipping through the night,
Among the trees of the forest wide.
Animals' paths and their prints seen by starlight
No person could follow if they tried.

She runs with the deer, one of their kind;
She hunts them with a silver bow,
With silent arrows guided by her mind
Painlessly they fall, lit by silver glow.

Goddess of the moon, under it she stays,
Daughter of the highest king.
With a brother bright as the sunny day,
Of her pureness men deign to sing.

Beautiful huntress with dark twinkling eyes,
Dark hair flowing, lit silver by the moon,
Protector of the young and shy,
Always dawn breaks too soon.

Ancient Voices, Modern Echoes

In Sophocles, the sphinx poses a riddle to the hero Oedipus. From junior Megan Rosengren comes a beautiful piece of prose that evokes that ancient riddle with a feminine twist...

The Cycle of Three

The wide eyes of Innocence gaze expectantly at the full Moon, waiting for a gift that will never come. The wind whistles past her ears, dropping the temperature a few degrees. The Stars burn brightly through the black blanket, competing with the glowing orb hung in the Sky so long ago. A slight tug on the hand jars the young girl, but does not move her from her spot. She stands rooted to the ground. She knows something is going to happen here; she can feel it, but she can’t place her finger on what it is. A young tree fights for survival in the early frost. The cold air of an autumn night bites her lungs. Another tug moves her along the path to home. She reluctantly follows her older sister, committing the scene to memory. She knows she will need it.

A pair of aged eyes looks knowingly up at the Sky, waiting for the Moon to reveal itself. She carries her child, an infant of no more than ten weeks, close to her bosom. Her jacket wraps around him, a layer of protection against the biting cold. The Moon reveals itself for several moments, until another passing cloud obscures it from human sight. She lets out a sharp breath and watches the air fog in front of her. She studies the tree standing resolute and firm, a promise in the harsh winter. The slight breeze rolling over the landscape muffles a faint cry. The mother soothes her child and parts from the familiar hideaway of her youth.

The wizened eyes look critically across the landscape. She sits frigidly on a frosted tree stump, fighting for each breath. The cold air seems cooler than it did all those years ago, she thinks. Leaving a world to fend for itself, a blanket of clouds covers the Moon tonight. The leaves are all gone, bagged and disposed of. The bare trees stand silhouetted against the faint light glowing in the distance. Even the Grasshoppers seem silent this night. It is a silence that deafens. The crone leans tiredly against her gnarled cane and waits. She knew something would happen in this place that night exactly sixty-eight years ago. She had felt it. Yet, nothing she felt that night could have pointed to her finding her death site. The following morning, with the sun shining brightly overhead, her son finds her in exactly the same position. He fights back tears, and reminds himself that this is all part of life. Simply, it is the Cycle of Three.

Poems of Loss

We often write to help make sense of life's troubles. Here are a pair of poems, both of which try to come to terms with the loss of a loved one. The first, echoing the sounds and rhythms of rap, is by Neal Goss, written in honor of his cousin, Lill.

Why?

God why have you forsaken me?
My cystic fibrosis is killing me.
I pray to you from night till day
That, God, you'll spare me and I'll be okay.
But no, I sit alone to die
And all I ask is why, God, why?
I'm small and innocent. I've made no sin,
So why do I crawl with this evil kin?
A demonous curse you casted on down
To a helpless child who sits with a frown.
I want you to know
That I don't hate you, though.
Just answer my prayer from a poor child
Before I'm left to become a dust pile.
Soon I will die and my casket will close
And in time I will sit permanently froze.

Next is a poem by Amythist Francis, in memory of her grandfather Mikel Bosma.

Gone

Playing and laughing, but it's all gone,
A true love's kiss fades away into the dusk. 
In the end, it's all lies, 
Never letting go of what is true, even when it's gone. 

A Flair for Drama

And now for something completely different...senior Ryan Howland submits the script of a play he wrote and directed for last year's one-act festival, a drama called...

Don't Need Words

The original characters were played as follows:

Mother-Eden Berube
Daughter-Thelmaleta Laplant
Man-Dean Phypers
Woman-Taylore Aussiker
Old Man-Josef Marquis
Old Woman-Kim Stacy
Brother-Ryan Howland
Sister-Hailey Dixon

SCENE: The stage is divided into three sections (OLD MAN & OLD WOMAN, MOTHER & DAUGHTER, MAN & WOMAN). Only the MOTHER & DAUGHTER are lit. Everything else is in semi-darkness. The MOTHER sits alone. The DAUGHTER enters. She looks very glum. Her face is flush and there is evidence that she has been crying.

MOTHER: What are you doing home? The prom isn’t supposed to end for another two hours.
DAUGHTER: I know. I couldn’t stand there any longer.
MOTHER: What do you mean?
DAUGHTER: He wasn’t there, Mom! He told me he was going to meet me outside the door, and, he never showed up.
MOTHER: Oh honey...are you sure he wasn’t already inside?
DAUGHTER: His name wasn’t checked off. And even if he was—
MOTHER: It’s okay.

They freeze. Lights down on them and up on the MAN & WOMAN. The man sits on the couch reading a newspaper. The WOMAN enters with a card.

MAN: What’s that you got?
WOMAN: A wedding invitation. Harry and Susan are getting married. (Pause.) You know, we should be thinking about the other wedding in the future.
MAN: Who else is getting married?
WOMAN: We are.
MAN: Oh, I haven’t really thought about it.
WOMAN: Unbelievable!
MAN: What?
WOMAN: You! You proposed to me two years ago. We haven’t made any plans for the wedding; I don’t even have a ring. Did you mean it when you said it?
MAN: Of course I did. Why do you think I asked if I didn’t?
WOMAN: I don’t know, maybe you were delirious.

They freeze. Lights down on them and back up on the MOTHER & DAUGHTER.

DAUGHTER: No Mom, it’s not okay. (Beat.) You know Brenda and Ashley?
MOTHER: Yes. Those girls you said picked on you.
DAUGHTER: Well, when they found out I was going to junior prom with him, they didn’t pick on me anymore. It felt good, Mom. Not being the nerd anymore, the one who’s kicked when they’re already down.
MOTHER: Oh—
DAUGHTER: And then we went and you bought this dress for me...I was so happy. For once in my life I thought I was one of those popular people.
MOTHER: Why does it matter whether you’re popular or not? You know who you are, and so do I, and so does your father. And what about Linda? Isn’t she your friend?
DAUGHTER: Well yeah, but—
MOTHER: You never have to worry about your place. There will always be people trying to bring you down, but if you believe in yourself, then all they’re talking about is garbage.

They freeze. Lights down on them and up on the OLD MAN & OLD WOMAN. The OLD WOMAN is doing some knitting. The OLD MAN is reading a newspaper and drinking some coffee.

OLD MAN: Did they say what time they were coming over?
OLD WOMAN: No, but they should be here soon.
OLD MAN: That’s good. (He flips a page of his newspaper.) Look at this, an advertisment for an iPhone. What is the deal with all of these iPods, iTunes, iWhatever. I remember when the only phone you could use had a cord.
OLD WOMAN: Well, that’s progress, dear.
OLD MAN: I’m not saying that I hate it, but, I just think technology is making life so easy that maybe it’s just getting a little too easy.
BROTHER: Mom? Dad?
OLD WOMAN: They’re here! (She puts her knitting down as the BROTHER and the SISTER enter.) My kids! (She goes over and kisses and hugs them.) Oh darling, you’re looking so thin.
SISTER: Thanks Mom.
OLD MAN: Hello, son.
BROTHER: Hey Dad. (They hug.)
OLD WOMAN: Well, let’s go into the kitchen, I made some food.
SISTER: Oh, Mom, I hope you didn’t outdo yourself.
OLD MAN: Oh, she’s been cooking all morning.
BROTHER: Good...I’m starving.

The family laughs as they walk offstage talking. Lights down on them and up on the MAN & WOMAN.

MAN: No, I wasn’t delirious. I knew exactly what I was doing. Do you know what day it is today?
WOMAN: Tuesday?
MAN: Well yeah, but, think harder. (Beat.) It’s the anniversary of the day we first met. All those years ago. (The MAN gets down on one knee and pulls something out of his pocket.)
WOMAN: Oh...
MAN: Honey, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then some. You mean so much to me. I never want to lose you. Will you marry me?
WOMAN: Of course. (The MAN laughs, puts the ring on her finger, and they hug.) I—I don’t know what to say.
MAN: Shhh...we don’t need words. As long as we have each other, words don’t matter.

They freeze. Lights down on them and up on the MOTHER & DAUGHTER.

DAUGHTER: Oh Mom. You always know exactly what to say. (They hug.)
MOTHER: Here, I’ll go make you some cocoa---with marshmallows.

She exits. The DAUGHTER smooths out her dress and wipes her face. She freezes. Lights down on her and up on the OLD MAN & OLD WOMAN. They enter with the BROTHER and SISTER.

BROTHER: Mom, that was delicious.
OLD MAN: I’m so full!
BROTHER: Sorry to eat and run, but, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a meeting.
OLD WOMAN: Okay, I love you. (They hug. The BROTHER exits.)
SISTER: I’d better go too. (She hugs the OLD MAN and the OLD WOMAN and goes to exit when the OLD WOMAN stops her.)
OLD WOMAN: I never asked you...how was that job you interviewed for?
SISTER: I got it! I start on Monday.
OLD WOMAN: I'm so proud of you. (She exits. The OLD WOMAN sits back down.) That's great. Remember when they used to sell lemonade when they were kids?
OLD MAN: Remember when you first told me you were pregnant?
OLD WOMAN: Like it was yesterday.

The lights remain up on the OLD MAN & OLD WOMAN but now they also rise on the MAN & WOMAN. They break their embrace.

MAN: Here, I’ll go get the champagne we’ve been saving for a special occasion. I think this definitely qualifies.
WOMAN: You don’t have to do that. (The MAN goes offstage.)
MAN: (Offstage.) Why not? Let’s celebrate! (He reenters with a bottle and two glasses.) Here, I’ll pour you a glass.
WOMAN: I don’t want any.
MAN: Why not?
WOMAN: Because I’m pregnant.
MAN: You are?
WOMAN: Yeah.
MAN: That’s great!
WOMAN: It is?
MAN: Honey, if you’re scared, it’s okay. We’ll get through this. We’re gonna have a family.
WOMAN: I’m really scared.
MAN: Come here. (They hug.) It’s gonna be okay. (They sit on the couch.)
WOMAN: I just thought of when we first met.
MAN: (Laughs.) I stood you up at junior prom.

They both laugh. Lights remain on the OLD MAN & OLD WOMAN and the MAN & WOMAN, but now the lights rise on the MOTHER & DAUGHTER. The DAUGHTER sits where she was before. The MOTHER enters.

MOTHER: Honey, the phone’s for you.
DAUGHTER: Maybe it’s him! (She runs offstage. The MOTHER smiles and follows her.)
WOMAN: It was you. Your father was in the hospital. You were calling to say you were sorry.

The lights go down on the MOTHER & DAUGHTER and the MAN & WOMAN. The OLD MAN goes over to the OLD WOMAN and offers his hand.

OLD WOMAN: What are you doing?
OLD MAN: Care to dance?
OLD WOMAN: I’m much too old. My bones are fragile.
OLD MAN: Oh, would you put down the knitting and dance with me?
OLD WOMAN: I don’t know. Will I? (Music starts to play.) This is my favorite song.

The OLD WOMAN stands and takes his hand. They start to dance. The DAUGHTER enters and begins to dance on one side of the stage. The MAN & WOMAN enter on the other side of the stage and start to dance. The OLD MAN leads the OLD WOMAN out onto center stage where a spotlight falls on them. The MAN & WOMAN slowly dance offstage. The DAUGHTER slowly dances offstage.

OLD MAN: I love you.
OLD WOMAN: Shhh...we don’t need words.

They continue to dance. The spotlight fades away along with the music.

END