Life is not a goldfish bowl and I have to thank all the many Authors who inspire me on a daily basis, whether that is with their drabbles, short stories, books that I’ve read, jokes, positive attitude, or some other way. This page is dedicated to them. I hope you enjoy some of the works I will share with you here, and take the time to check out their own websites/blogpages.
A fabulous drabble by my fellow authur Bryan Thomas
The Wine Class
“And now, my favourite grape variety – Cabernet Sauvignon,” said Nigel. “To me, this grape is the Russell Crowe of the wine world: It has huge presence. It’s unpredictable, and it will slap you right in the chops without warning. So, Algenon, let’s have your opinion on this Chilean red.”
“I’m getting a head-on collision of blackberries and burnt seagull droppings. I’m getting pan-fried crotchless panties with a hint of badger snot. I’m getting brake fluid, Scottish peat, pungent armpit, and a low note of kippers in tarmacadam sauce.”
“Everything but the kitchen sink, eh?” said Nigel.
My friend and fellow Author Rick Haynes and myself were both inspired by this picture and decided to write a drabble each about it. Here they are
The Midnight Gravedigger- by Nav Logan
Another spade full of dirt flies heavenward, momentarily highlighted in the car’s headlights.
Every sound makes me jumpy.
The headlights make my task easier, but they are a beacon in the darkness for all to see; the living or the dead.
I continue to dig deeper, hoping, and yet dreading the moment that my spade hits the coffin. Still, the sooner this job is done, the sooner I can get the hell out of here.
Finally, I hear the hollow ‘thunk’ of metal on wood.
After five years in prison, I will finally get to spend my hidden treasure.
Spectral Morning – by Rick Haynes
As the dew gently caressed the leaves in the wood, a soft light slowly grew in luminance. The coalescing sparkles began to take the shape of a young girl. A pure white gown swished and swirled around her as she moved towards the graveyard, her slender feet leaving no tracks in the soft soil.
The fresh grave had been hastily re-filled but all her attention was focused on the sobbing cries of a terrified infant.
Holding out her hands to the cold earth, she spoke soothingly.
“Come forth you beautiful child, for I will take you to your true home.”
Here are Rick’s links: Amazon http://www.amazon.co.uk/…/B00C…/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1…
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/…/Rick…/299372356891053…
8th September 2014
Today’s guest Author is Chris Bailey, who I have now worked with on a couple of collaborations. This is one of his drabbles.
Rick is a great guy who is currently working hard on his latest novel. We’ve also recruited him into the League of Gentlemen Bananas as he’s now converted to drabbling. LOL
He is also one of the Authors on the Halloween story I’ve been working on with A K Michaels and C S Bailey and himself, along with a cameo appearance by Ken Magee.
Here are his links: Amazon – http://www.amazon.co.uk/…/B00C…/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1… Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/…/Rick…/299372356891053…
Visit Amazon.co.uk’s Rick Haynes Page and shop for all Rick Haynes books. Check out pictures, bibliography, biography and community discussions about Rick Haynes
Today, I’m featuring another great drabble from Chris.******
“So my brother, what faith do you follow?”
“I’m a Sith Lord father.”
“But that is fiction my child.”
“So tell me father, what is the difference between a screen play and a book?”
“Exactly father, the only difference between Star Wars and the bible; is that the former was brilliantly written. Well the first three anyway.”
“But the bible says it’s a sin to believe…”
“Father, 50 shades says it’s okay to ignore all the BDSM rules and become an obsessive moron, but would you?”
“Is this a Jedi mind trick?”
“No father, I’m a Sith Lord.”
The year is 2033; I am a marine commander of an alpha unit sent in to eradicate threats to our galaxy. My team and I traverse the galaxy seeking out our enemies and destroy them with extreme vigilance and unparalleled precision.
We have travelled far, to the planet Epsilon where a group of marines have gone missing; our job is to penetrate the caverns and bring them home to safety.
All of a sudden there is a knock at the door. Appearing before me is a familiar figure.
“Nan, get out of my bloody room while I’m playing video games!”
http://www.maybemisery87.blogspot.co.uk/ CS Bailey
I will start with a wonderfully witty piece from a good friend Bryan Thomas. This is a fine example of what you can expect from this creative writer.
Men in Uniform by Bryan Thomas
So this burly guy approaches me wearing a freshly pressed uniform, with a truncheon dangling from his belt. “Ooh, hon!” I said. “I’m loving the truncheon thing.”
He glared at me.
I reached out and tweaked the end of his truncheon with my thumb and forefinger. “My, that’s a big one,” I said.
He continued glaring at me.
I ran my fingers through my hair and looked into his big, blue eyes. “Come here often?” I teased.
“Smith! Get your bloody arse in gear and follow me to the prison warden’s office,” he barked.
Assertive too! This one’s a keeper!
Also, Bryan, Chris and Myself worked on a multi drabble short story recently,so I’ve included Bryan’s introduction and the story for you.
ake three writers: Nav Logan, C.s.Bailey and Bryan Thomas. Ask them (nicely) to collaborate on a piece of fiction, one hundred words at a time. Kinda like literary Russian roulette. The result? A surreal, sometimes anarchic, sometimes funny story that qualifies as ‘out there’. Worth a read? That’s up to you. Many thanks to Chris and Nav…
The Call of the Wild: Three Bananas
(Nav) The early morning was quite as we stalked through the woodlands. The air held the first crispness of winter. The dawn chorus was merely a couple of raucous crows, arguing like old women. We moved silently through the undergrowth. The breeze ruffled my hair as we continued, bringing with it the musky scent of boar. My rifle felt cumbersome in my arms, an unfamiliar weight. My heart raced with excitement, that heady rush of adrenaline. I heard the snapping of a twig up ahead and dived to the ground just in time. Paint splattered a tree beside my ear.
(Chris) “Bryan! Watch your bloody fire!” yelled an obviously angered Nav. From my crouched position behind the large oak tree, I light out a sly grin. Nav has always taken paint balling way too serious; he goes as far as to wear green and black face paint.
“Sorry Nav, I slipped on some moss.” Nav just grunts and continues to advance. Suddenly Nav jumps out of his pale skin by the ringing of his phone.
“Hold on lads… Computer pause simulation.” The vast forest disappears around us and we are stood in a light blue square room. Nav answers his phone…
(Bryan) “Hello? Yeah, hold on a mo…” Nav takes the phone away from his ear and smothers it under his military jacket.
“It’s the missus, she wants to know when I’ll be home, I promised to re-roof the rabbit hutch today.”
“Pfft!” said Chris.
“You didn’t tell her we’re paintballing, did you?”
“Um, yeah… she has a way of kinda… choking these things out of me.”
“Nav!” said Bryan.
“The first rule of paintball club is you ‘do not’ mention paintball freakin’ club!”
“Sorry, lads, these things happen. Shit! She’s still on hold, she’ll be absolutely bloody fuming,” said Nav.
(Nav) Sometime later, they are eating in the chipper. Nav knows that he’s already up shit creek with the missus, so a large bouquet of roses rests on the table next to his kebab. The other two comedians have finally stopped giving him stick, though the occasional whip effect can still be heard.
“How’s about some golf after this?” asked Bryan eagerly.
“What is it with you and that stupid game?” complained Chris.
“You can’t even play it.”
“I’m better than you, numb-nuts.” Bryan protested. Nav rolls his eyes.
“Lads, come on. Your ma’s gonna kill me if we’re late again!”
(Chris) Bryan looks over at Nav with a scowl yet no words grace us with their presence from his open mouth, only a view of mashed up meat. Chris gazes over at the blue neon sign stating that the establishment is open
“Nav, do you ever wonder what we’re our lives are going?” Bryan stops chewing for a moment and looks at Nav.
“Chris, stop being bloody over-dramatic will you! Every time a grenade goes off or a burst of laser fire passes us by, you get worse! Go home and see your cat, for tomorrow we’ve got a job to do.”
(Bryan) The following day, Chris, Nav and Bryan are parked around the corner from the Clogthorpe branch of the Halifax Bank.
“Got yer bananas ready?” said Nav.
“Mine’s loaded,” said Chris.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Bryan, “a banana doesn’t even look like a gun.”
“Just put it in the black sock like we’ve done,” said Chris.
“Say somebody calls my bluff?” said Bryan.
“Trust me, I’ve done this before, they’ll be too busy shitting themselves,” said Nav.
“Check!” said Chris.
“Check!” said Bryan.
Nav opened the door of his Skoda Yeti “Let’s freakin’ rock!”
(Nav) They burst through the doors of Halifax like a bunch of party poppers on New Year’s Eve, waving their bananas threateningly. Nav hadn’t been wearing socks so his fruit glared brightly in the neon lighting.
“On the ground!” yelled Chris. The newly-acquired robo-guards XLS2000 opened fire. Stun grenades flew like it was bonfire night and the streaks of laser-fire lit up the room with an impressive lightshow. Sadly, the ambient lift-music did little to reflect the surrounding chaos. Nav looked for the exit through tear-filled eyes. He’d become disorientated.
“THROW DOWN YOUR FRUIT AND SURRENDER!” bellowed over the loudspeakers.
(Chris) As Bryan cowered on the floor, yearning to be safe in the old Skoda, Chris knew it was up to him and his banana to save his two companions. He ran at the robo-guards with full force, only to trip over a plug and fall flat on his face.
As he peered upwards red faced like beetroot, the humanoid faces of the guards seemed amused. They didn’t realize that this gave Nav the chance to unleash a time-stalling grenade. As the clocks froze, the three bananas grabbed as many five pounds notes as they could and ran for the door.
(Bryan) Nav was whittling a piece of wood into a phallic shape, while Chris pulled the wings off a nondescript fly.
“How long are we gonna have to lie low?” said Bryan.
“As long as it takes,” said Nav.
“If they catch us we’ll be looking at a five stretch,” said Chris.
“I don’t wanna be some drug dealer’s bitch,” said Bryan.
“At least you’d be gettin’ it regularly,” said Chris.
“Given the choice, I’d rather be the sausager than the sausagee,” said Bryan.
“Will you two get a grip!” Nav continued, “There’s no evidence to link us to the robbery.”
(Nav) BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Nav stirred. He could feel a wetness around his loins. Blinking awake, he watched a young woman washed his body with a hand-towel. She wore a crisp white uniform. He had woken in an unfamiliar room, all bright antiseptic walls and neon lights.
He groaned. His head was still fuzzy from whatever drugs they’d used.
“Morning, Mr. Logan!” she greeted cheerfully.
“The Doctor will be along shortly.”
Flashback images appeared in his head. He’d been late for his meeting when suddenly … he’d tripped over the cat and fallen down the stairs.
“Strange dreams!” he mumbled sleepily.
Here is the link for Chris’s page too
http://www.maybemisery87.blogspot.co.uk/ CS Bailey
Here’s a great drabble by Michael Brookes
My latest standalone drabble has been featured in today’s Indie Book Bargains newsletter and copied below. It’s Lovecraft inspired tale that’s the kernel for a book idea that has been peculating in the back of my mind for a while.
If you’ve not read my other standalone drabbles then you’ll find them all here:
The Space In-between
There is a secret hidden deep inside the heart of the universe. A terrible reality which once challenged the power of the divine. In a war spanning our universe and beyond the elder beings almost destroyed everything that was and what might yet come to be.
Those who survived imprisoned the horror inside a maze of nothingness. Only the complex space in between could contain their impossible forms. Their presence creates quantum chaos to what was once mathematical precision.
No faith alone can unlock their prison, but science has the key.
The elder ones await our discoveries with keen hunger.