Drabble Lab round 3: Growth.
This round of Drabble Lab made me grin, because there were so many repeating themes. You know you write for a wonderfully skeptical audience when the prompt of ‘truth’ yields stories mostly about the fallibility of human reason and the possible reality of totally implausible situations. In short, in most of these stories, there was no truth. And that was awesome. Once again, I recommend everyone check back at the thread so you can read every drabble – they’re all great, and there was a very clever late entry which maybe even the people participating haven’t seen. But without further ado, here are the runners up:
I was drawn to this one, by Ryan, because I can so perfectly imagine the final line slurred, emphatic, and barely comprehensible.
“Reality is subjective. Objective truth, if such a thing can even be said to exist, must grind through our inherently imperfect senses and subsequently be processed by our primitive brain and seasoned by the biases built up through our many experiences. The truth as we understand it is a salami of what is real, a bologna of fact. The realities of the universe, as perceived by humans, are indistinguishable from hallucination.”
“How’d she respond to that?” queried the gentleman to my right as he signaled the barkeep, who refused us another round.
“I am now, subjectively, sleeping on the couch.”
This one, by Kayleigh LeBlanc, touches a common theme of childhood fantasy and childhood misbehavior, and I can just see the long-suffering face of the older interlocutor at the end of the exchange.
“Rufus used to be a pirate.” Her little voice said plainly; an incontrovertible fact.
“Is that so?”
She nodded solemnly, her small hand tightening around two of my fingers. “He told me so. And cats never lie.”
I watched the cat burying his face against the sofa, purring as Sophie ran her clumsy hand down his back. “Who told you that? I wouldn’t trust anything a cat says.”
She frowned, looking up at me with consternation. “What about the dog?”
“Dogs are usually pretty honest.” I admitted.
“Well the dog told me it was him that drew on the wall.”
And this one, by Anne S., is remarkable because it is barely fiction, which is rare in a drabble.
The hashtag started trending in record time. The tweets are coming hard and fast now, faster than she can refresh her feed. Each new string of 140 characters or less is more urgent, more graphic, more dramatic than the last. Teachers, lawyers, middle schoolers, dishwashers, plant managers—everyone is a journalist tonight. And if they aren’t journalists, they’re analysts—giving meaning to the events as they unfold, revising theories to match new information, or on a whim. She knows their sources aren’t good, even the eye witnesses. But she can’t tear herself away. Breaking news is breaking news, after all.
The winner, by Breadbox, is a classic drabble: starting out with careful imagery, embellishing for just a bit, and ending with a punch line. And it was such a cute punch line. Here’s the illustration, and the drabble!
The Sasquatch had made no footprints on the uncarpeted floor. The short fuzzy aliens hadn’t shed any tufts of chartreuse fur in their wake. There were no dropped doubloons to show where the pirates had scurried off to, waving their pistols behind them at anything that moved. And the zombies, oddest of all, hadn’t left behind a single rotting body part or bit of partially chewed gray matter.
The kitchen linoleum wasn’t even stained.
Sylvia could only look up at her mother, narrowed eyes glaring at her over the shards of the cookie jar, and say, “But it’s the truth.”
Congrats, and thank you all for participating!
The theme for this week will be growth.
Give me your best 100-word stories, in the comments, by Friday to get an awesome illustration! Hooray!