Thank you for asking, Ron.
Here’s a link to an article I wrote about drabbles, where I also show the process of turning a poem into a drabble et al. Since you would like to see a few examples, here are a few of mine that I believe appeared in a Sam’s Dot publication. They may have also been in Flashshots Daily Genre Fiction or composed for a collection-in-process. Once you start writing drabbles – or other microfictions – I hope that you’ll discover what a versatile form they are. Challenging? Yes! However, it’s good to spark those synapses!
THE GRUNION ARE RUNNING
At first, he thought they were grunion spawning.
When Conrad climbed over the guard rail, slid down the cliff to soft crunchy
sand, he saw how wrong he was.
There, at waves’ edge, their breasts pressing against damp silver sand,
mermaids.
Such sweet voices called out to him. “Conrad–we need you. Please!”
Curious, he surrendered to their hands, their lips, their crimson
undulations.
Spent, Conrad slept through the day and into the night. He awoke in a cave,
paralyzed.
They returned to him-for him. A sense of time was lost with his ability to
feel.
.until the first eggs hatched.
*
SOMETHING TO LOVE YOU WITH
“What’s that sound?” Katie asked snuggling against her mother.
“It’s my heart, sweetie.”
“What’s it do?”
“It’s what I love you with,” she replied, hugging her daughter closer.
“Can I have it?” Katie asked with such a serious expression that her mother laughed aloud.
“It’s already yours, silly!”
Years later, at the reading of her mother’s will, Katie, now a grown woman, smiled when she reread the note tied around the decorative jar handed to her by the executor: “I believe you asked for this. . .Thank you for waiting.”
Inside, preserved quite nicely in formaldehyde, was her mother’s heart.
*
AT THE DENTIST’S OFFICE
“Open wider,” the dentist says, and I do my best to comply. . .unhinge my jaws the best I can, as bright lights and brighter ideas urge me to confess that I rather like the scent of him.
He leans forward to inspect the tooth where once a root had been, so I
unhinge my jaws a bit further. When he remarks, “I rather like the look of things, the healing is progressing faster than expected,” I guide him
through my stomachs one by one. . .
I ask you-tell me truly. . .what’s one more dentist more or less?
END
Terrie Leigh Relf: Author, Workshop Facilitator & Writing Coach 