Daily Drabble Roundup

[kidcyclone]

Daily Drabble Round-up for Day 37 of the 100 Drabbles Of Summer (6/23/2010)

All participants post your drabbles here as a comment!

Comments

[kidcyclone]

Number 37: A Strange Sound

“Listen.”

William hushed, seething, still suspecting trickery. He heard it again-a rustle in the grass about thirty yards off. A munching, softly squeaking gnawing from a shrub over by a fog-shrouded tombstone.

“Hear that vole, chasing a beetle through the grass? Or that caterpillar chewing a leaf. Now, then, do you really think a human could hear that?”

The huge chap who called himself ‘Angelus’ smirked down at him patronisingly.

“So I’m a …a vampire then?”

“That you are, my boy. My childe, a ruthless, fierce and wild creature of the night. Together we will-William! Get back here!”

Number 22: StormWilliam’s eyes darken and he turns, with a face like thunder. The air fairly crackles with the force of the boy’s frustration

[kidcyclone]

Number 35: Burn

Christmas, 1880.

Clutching the empty bottle, Spike’s decided. He’s got to take charge of his Destiny. He’ll show them all. He’s not a child, not a puppy, not a boy.

Spike breaks the door on the Study, gathers up every strap, switch and cane he can find and piles them in the foyer. Tossing Angelus’s oversized slippers on for good measure, he piles on schoolbooks and pours coal oil over the lot.

He strikes a light and tosses it onto the pyre. As the flames lick toward the chandelier, Spike shouts, “Merry sodding Christmas!”

From upstairs, he hears heavy footsteps.

Author's Choice: FatherThe floor length cassock covers black wool trousers and boots. Winding the crimson sash waistward, he fastens the white collar firmly into place

[kidcyclone]

Number 60: Picture of a frog

Spike disapproves of several of the minions, but Amelia is the worst. She’s snippy and fussy and always complaining. Worse, she’s in cahoots with Darla. Worst of all, she’s trained in all matters of hair-cutting.

He sits on the hard wooden stool with a sheet draped round his shoulders, grimacing as she snips the silver scissors, one firm hand grasping his bicep.

She natters on about his curls and how women would kill for hair his texture and colour.

Later on, when he hears the shriek and crash of crockery, he knows she’s found the bullfrog in her bath jug.

Number 47: A Summer SportSpike’s thirteen and stroppy. He and Angelus have been having battles of will. And Angelus is determined not to lose a battle to a wet-behind-the-ears thirteen year old brat. So, now he’s been gated for seven weeks

8. Greed

[idealized_sue]

There was just something about the smell of leather. It didn’t matter what mood she might be in or how bad things were going, that smell always managed to soothe her in a way that few things could.

As lovely as it was though, the smell was only the beginning. The styles and colors called to her as well. So many in fact that she simply could not stop at one or two pairs, but found herself with at least half a dozen bags to help calm her spirit.

There was a reason they called it retail therapy after all.

9. Lust

[lt_wes_janson]

NSFW