Challenges · Fiction · Three-Line Tales

Three Line Tales 13 – Canal

photo by Federico Beccari via Unsplash

The place looks familiar, but it also feels rather strange that he remembers it without actually remembering it. He’s been here before, but can’t figure out why that matters enough to stop him in his tracks.

The groaning, shambling horde has since crossed the bridge, with only two of them tumbling off the edge into the water—the canal; and yet, here he still stands, chewing thoughtfully on a takeaway hand, drawing in a lungful of the now stale air as reminiscence of a surprise proposal trip he took with his girlfriend starts to spark life back into his undead mind.

He chokes on something and now has half the mind to spit it out into his gray palm. The diamond ring looks familiar, too; he wishes he could just forget again.

*Inspired by the photo prompt above for Week 294 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

066 – Final Draft

white paper on laptop computer
Photo by Roman Koval on

The words came to him in a flood of inspiration, merging and flowing together as though in a dream, creating scenes as vivid as life and as intense as his next breath.

What usually took him half a year to plan and the other half to barely finish, was now coming to him in droves, springing out of an endless well of ideas that was all his to exploit.

His fingers were on a mission, willing slaves to his mind’s final bursts of whimsy.

Because tonight was his last night on earth.

And this story could never die with hi;bbvyjugfhkjlkllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

*Inspired by the prompt because the night  from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

062 – Raid

brown concrete wall
Photo by Dids on

The police came at midnight. It was a good thing Wayne had already stashed his wife away.

He held his breath as the automated intruders raided his place, searching for a warm presence—a filthy human or two to dispose of before they further contaminated the air robots did not even need.

One came too close to the secret panel on the wall behind which his wife lay in a cryogenic sleep.

Sighing, Wayne decided to open his own panel and surrender himself.

His wife would be pissed, but she’d at least be safe.

This was all that mattered now.

*Inspired by the prompt safety first  from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

053 – Hell on Earth

lightning during nighttime
Photo by Johannes Plenio on

The night sky sparks with anger, roaring and groaning across the seas. Its tears are fat, cold, smearing acid pain on Bob’s chest.

“Am I in hell?” he asks, nose wrinkling at the sting of burning flesh.

Lightning rips through the darkness again, hits the ground beside his face. He closes his eyes. The answer explodes in his mind, rumbling like thunder—

Thunder fading into the distance—

Distance melting into the void—

Void sucking him back to reality—

Reality shouting in his mother’s voice—

“Wake up, Robert! It’s first day of school! You can’t be late!”

Hell descending on earth—

*Inspired by the prompt write here, write now  from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

031 – Another Day

alone bed bedroom blur
Photo by Pixabay on

The world ended on a Tuesday, in a totally unexpected way. If I only knew, I’d have lived my final day to the fullest, raising as much crazy fun as I could.

You never really understand the wisdom of old folks until the reality of it bites you in the face, and all you’ve got left is a lifetime of regrets.

I spent that entire Tuesday in bed, zoning out on Netflix.

I wake up and it’s Tuesday again—
Stuck in a loop with nowhere else to go.
Living out the boringest day of my life.

Over and over and…

*Inspired by the prompt just another day  from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

024 – Outsider

man wearing black headphones beside train rail
Photo by Burst on

He was an outsider, an insignificant stain in the fabric of normalcy. Even after normalcy was thrown out the window, he still did not quite belong.

The mutation had been quick. He watched it happen to his brother, his best friend followed suit. But the third limb was just an interlude to an entire chorus of changes: of fingers merging together, entire scalps falling off. Of noses splitting and lips getting stuck in voiceless screams.

Ten years ago, he caught fire in his face.

He was deaf enough to miss the deadly alien opera that took the rest of humanity.

*Inspired by the prompt critical eye from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

022 – Egg

withered ground
Photo by James Frid on

They were a five-man crew from the backwoods of the New World—or what was left of it.

Peter gave up on the first day, his feeble knees collapsing on the slope of Mountain 4. Larry choked on sand he took for rice in his stupor, and Cindy ran into the waves off Cliff 6 on day 10.

Ash and Lala barely made it to the top of the legendary Mountain Zed. But the worms had already beaten them to their final meal.

The Ancient Chicken, all beak and bone, lay peacefully beside a lone egg, all cracked and empty.

*Inspired by the prompt live to eat from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

020 – Pink

pink and blue abstract artwork
Photo by on

The pink mist descended upon the Earth without warning, and the status quo was completely turned on its head.

The cats were the first to walk upright. The dogs took an entire day to catch on. The birds were the first to talk—chickens even began to joke—while the fishes tired of swimming and flew.

The cloud turned purple and hopped around the ground. Elephants grew wings and flapped into the sun.

And humans, believing themselves trapped in a fever dream, closed their windows on it all.

The giant bedbugs gushed about the feast they had a week later.

*Inspired by the prompt the stat connection from The Daily Post.

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

Drabble #065

brown cardboard robot artwork
Photo by InstaWalli on

Cleaning up has always been a tedious affair. The clanging bundle of metal marked CU148 would’ve hated being assigned to it, had he been given enough emotional chips to care.

But cleanup robots aren’t supposed to care. They aren’t supposed to feel anything besides a straightforward will to clear a post-apocalyptic planet of debris, following a mandated attack from an army of merciless destroyer robots.

Sentimentality has no place in a cleanup robots’ basic system.

But something akin to an ache in the chest always makes CU148 stop and pick something up to keep.

And his mementos just keep growing.

*Inspired by the prompt Record from The Daily Post.
*Also posted on

Challenges · Drabble · Fiction

Drabble #062

flight landscape nature sky
Photo by Pixabay on

he has always been the sky,
and she, his bleeding earth,

two different planes of reality,
two separate lines of thought,

melting into oneness at every horizon,
parting again at dusk;

never really knowing,
just existing,

never fully embracing

yet, when she looks up to him,
sighing, weeping, he lets go,

when her battered heart rides the wind,
he catches, he accepts, he surrenders,

tainted tears pouring like acid rain,
he prepares for the final strike,

she’s just as bare and beautiful
as she was at first light;

he has always been the sky,
and she, his bleeding earth—

*Inspired by the prompt Desert from The Daily Post.
*Also posted on