Archive Tag:drabble

Drabble 128 – Vellichor

Vellichor

My last quarter of college was difficult. Not what I was studying – in fact, that quarter may very well have been one of my favorites – but rather the experience of it. I felt weighted down with expectations of what came next, with the knowledge that I’d be spending less time in the city and therefore less with my new group of friends, with the feeling that one large stage of my life was over and the next would be far scarier.

I spent much of that quarter isolating myself. Not in the sense that I cut off everybody around me, but in the sense that I consciously spent time with myself. I studied alone in weird places. I ate lunch by myself. I spent more time exploring campus for no reason other than that I could.

I also spent a lot of time in bookstores. I never looked for anything in particular; I’d just wander the aisles, looking at titles and occasionally pulling one off the shelf to read the back cover. I bought more than a few weird volumes of things I still have yet to read, stuffing my already overflowing backpack full of things I picked up on a whim.

That period of time might have been sad, in a sense. But it’s also a quarter I look back on fondly; I spent so much quiet time in the spring sun, people-watching and reading surrounded by plants. I ducked into bookstores on rainy days and found new, weird parts of the library to explore. I don’t regret it at all.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 127 – Euphonius

Euphonia

Two of the first horror books I ever read were about carnivals. These were years before I ever picked up Something Wicked This Way Comes, which likely would have scarred me for life. They were the silly kind of Goosebumps horror that was spooky but not really scary, but they haunted me for years afterward.

I spent a lot of time at fairs as a kid. I grew up in a small town with nothing to do, and our yearly summer fair was one of the few things I looked forward to every year. One year, when I was particularly young, I spent every day at the fair, open to close, wandering around by myself.

Nothing scary happened to me, but, even that young, it was surreal. I felt like I’d become part of the carnival somehow, a feature as intrinsic to the experience as the barkers drawing you in to play games. Just a girl wandering around with a bag of cotton candy and an unlimited rides bracelet, ready to fade away as soon as the fair packed up and moved along.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 126 – Quiescent

Quiescent
Altemps, sleeping Erinyes / CC BY-SA 3.0

Aeschylus’ Oresteia is one of those works I read and immediately knew I was reading against authorial intent. I didn’t have enough English literature education in me yet to understand why I shouldn’t care what some old dead man thought about Clytemnestra, but there was something about her rage that resonated with me, a rage so big and violent its aftershocks woke the dark gods beneath the earth.

I can’t imagine why I found that important.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 124 – Heliolater

Heliolater

There’s a period of time in late November and early December where I think I like winter. I prefer cold weather, certainly, but the next time I try to convince myself that I like short days, a muddy garden, and fewer delicious fruits and vegetables at the grocery store, I’d like someone to gently remind me that I’m a liar and a fraud and have no idea what I’m talking about.

I don’t like deep summer, either. I’m horribly picky about weather, and prefer transitory seasons; fall has all the chill of winter without the oppressive darkness, and spring has the warmth and growth I like in summer without giving me heat-induced rage. I begrudgingly admit I might like the sun, no matter how many times, come summer, I’ll try to deny it.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 123 – Billet-Doux

Billet-Doux

In high school, I got on a letter-writing kick. I joined a postcard exchange club that matched you with people in other countries; that’s how I was introduced to Moomin, because of a postcard I got from someone in Finland I never spoke to again. I wrote all my friends letters that they never returned because I’m forever sappy and have a thing for snail mail. It didn’t matter, really–I did it because I wanted to, not because I wanted to get something back.

I grew up between snail mail and cell phones. I didn’t have a cell phone until after I graduated, so we communicated through a mixture of AIM, handwritten notes, and face-to-face conversation. I still have a lot of those notes stored away somewhere. They’re probably not interesting to anybody but me, just as little relics of who I was in those moments, how I expressed myself, what was funny or moving or confusing to me.

One thing I don’t have is love letters. I never dated anybody in high school, and by the time I met my now-husband, we’d transitioned smoothly to cell phones and there was no reason to send him a letter, especially because we moved in together after six months. It’s probably for the best; I can’t imagine teenage Melissa’s love notes would be something I could look at without getting embarrassed.

Despite that, I have a fascination with love letters. One of the stories I’m working on now (something I had to put aside to finish The Compendium of Magical Beasts) is based on love letters–I wanted to play with words and how a relationship based mostly in written communication changes, especially when anybody might be watching.

Anyway, here’s a drabble, a short letter between the love interests of that story.

Drabble 122 – Mångata

Mangata
John Weiss / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

I grew up on an island, which sounds much more romantic than it is. I didn’t lead some kind of idyllic life there, I just happened to be closer to water than a lot of people, and have fond memories of my mom taking me to the beach at low tide so I could peer at starfish and anemones.

But the Puget Sound is a sound, not the ocean, so I still remember the first time I went to the coast and saw the ocean stretch out ahead of me, long and flat, with no mountains or islands to be seen. The world had always felt small to me, but seeing out across the Pacific, with nothing visible on the other side, I finally got a sense of how big it was.

I wasn’t afraid of it, but it stuck with me. How could anything be that large? I knew the sun orbited the earth, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but imagine the sizzle of a giant ball of fire as it sank into something so cold.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 119 – Kalopsia

Kalopsia

I took photography classes in high school, and it was easily one of my favorite subjects. In part, that was because photograph class meant checking out a camera and wandering around school for an hour, but it was also a way for me to see things differently. I’ve never been a particularly good visual artist, so photography was a way for me to capture something and show it to others exactly as I saw it.

Interestingly, the only photo I ever felt comfortable submitting to a contest was one of a green oxygen tank. I looked at it, and it seemed like the kind of image you might see at a photo contest, so that was the one I chose, not any of the ones that I actually liked. Just a green canister with a canted frame, the contrast boosted in Photoshop to make it look extra grimy. I didn’t know what the meaning was, only that it looked like it might have meaning.

I didn’t win. It wasn’t a good photo, to be honest. I don’t know that I would have won even if it was a good photo absolutely packed with deep symbolism and artistry; photography was (and still is) a hobby, not something I pursue particularly seriously. But when I think back to all the photos I took in high school, that one sticks with me as something that was meant to represent me, but has nothing at all to do with me.

Anyway, here’s a drabble. And if you like what I’m doing, consider picking up my first zine, a collection of drabbles I put together and quite like. You can pay whatever you like for it, even nothing.

Drabble 118 – Halomancy

Halomancy

One of the numerous challenges I set myself this year is to bake something once a week. I pride myself on being a good cook; I like food to taste good, and I usually know the ingredients that it takes to improve it. But baking is a mystery to me, the ratios and chemistry of it all feeling like limitations rather than the blank canvas of cooking.

I’m aware that baking involves chemical reactions, and that certain ingredients must be in proportion to one another if you want the recipe to turn out. I also know that it’s wise to read the entire set of instructions before beginning, or you’ll find out midway through that you don’t have a food scale or some other essential piece of equipment. I guess I didn’t really learn anything from all the lessons of too-arrogant beginning wizards in every book I read as a kid.

If you like what happens on this blog, good news! I compiled ten of my favorite drabbles into a zine that’s available for pay what you want on Gumroad. I spent some time making them look all pretty and nice, so consider giving it a look!

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 117 – Scolion

Scolion
The Bean Feast / Jan Steen

I am so ready for 2018.

I woke up the morning of the first from a nightmare, 2017 still making itself felt. But I also woke up without feeling sick from food poisoning, which was a blessing. I woke up early, I made myself a cup of tea and some waffles with lemon curd, and read a book that I’m not sure I like, but that is certainly challenging me.

I took my dog for a walk with friends. I found out my tutoring job is closed today, which means I get to spend the day working on things I enjoy. I’m not superstitious, but I’m going to take all this as a good omen for the coming year.

The world is dark and scary a lot of the time. I’ll cling to this throughout the year, because I don’t think it’s over yet.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

Drabble 116 – Nighttide

Nighttide

I think we can all agree that 2017 being over is a blessing, right?

I’ve had a weird year. I suspect we all have. 2017 has been an absolute roller coaster of elation and despair. I’m more politically engaged than I’ve ever been, which is undoubtedly a good thing. I wrote a book. I spent much of this year afraid for how much longer I could keep it up, because dread creeps into everything. I lost some things that were very important to me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get them back. I’m not sure that I should.

I don’t know that 2018 is going to be better. I wish I could say with certainty that it will be, but I just don’t know. It could be worse. We’ll keep fighting, no matter how tired and hopeless we feel. We have to.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.