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Hall of Fame

Recent Drabbles - Page 2

Unknown Title

“I wonder if you could help me?” asked Arbuthnot.

“Certainly, sir,” replied the bookseller.

“I’m looking for a book and I can’t remember its title.”

“Do you know the author?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Do you have any idea what this book is about, then?”

“I know there’s a big lion in it. And snow, and a witch. And there’s this wardrobe that some children pass through. Is that of any use?”

The bookseller blinked slowly at Arbuthnot, then typed some words into his computer. Then said, “I’m sorry but you’ll have to be more specific. I can’t help you otherwise.”

Jonathan Hill Merits

5 most prolific2 most esteemed1 top drabble5 top drabblist

The Booger Man

Growing up in Illinois in the Eighties, my life was quite idyllic. There was only one persistent dark cloud on my perfect horizon - the Booger Man. A faceless enigma. Adults were supposed to know everything, but nobody seemed to know anything about the Booger Man. I would often lay awake in bed at night wondering what he looked like, if he was married, if he had kids, where he lived, what type of car he drove, that kinda stuff. Now, as an adult, I know all of the answers to my childhood questions... because I am the Booger Man.

Bryan Thomas Merits

2 most prolific11 most esteemed

Suddenly Green

She stopped tapping her keyboard, and moved her head to her right, looking out of the window for what seemed the first time in ages.

Actually properly looked. The bright green foliage on the trees outside the window couldn’t have appeared overnight, but she was sure the last time she had looked out of the window, the trees had all been bare, and she could see the houses that lay beyond.

She smiled as the sun flickered over the leaves as they swayed gently in the breeze.

Then BANG!! The seagull imprint was left on the outside of the window.

Kev Neylon Merits

9 most prolific4 most esteemed


Staring into the flames of the campfire, Lael allowed his thoughts to wander. His heart longed for home, even though he had long burned that bridge.

He pictured his father, seated at the worn desk in his study, poring over reports and orders. What he would not give to be able to open the door and walk through it. To tell him how much he loved and missed him.

Yet it could not be. To return would mean his disgrace, and he could not bear to see his father’s eyes filled with loathing once he realised what Lael had become.

Beyond Compare

When Andy was an infant, the fairest sight on earth was his mother’s smile. When he was a boy, his greatest treasure was his shiny bike. As a young man, Ann's beautiful eyes.

Later, the Yorkshire Dales had seemed beautiful, but lovelier still were the dreaming spires of Oxford where he studied. In time, such wonders paled, and nothing then seemed fairer than Ripon with his loved ones' smiles welcoming him home.

Andy had seen many wonders, but this sight was the greatest of all. His infant son’s milk-smeared face was beyond doubt the greatest treasure that England held.

The Author

It was an author’s worst nightmare. The authorities looking into an Internet history and finding searches on how to obtain a gun, for example, or worse…

“Research,” the author insisted, shaking and crying. “I needed to access the site in order to write.”

“Then how do you explain the missing child?” the officer asked.

“I honestly don’t know. All I do is write books, authentic books.”

The author’s pleas were noted down but a search of his flat found no books, no writing, only images. Hundreds of them. He had written but one story, that of him being an author.

Jonathan Hill Merits

5 most prolific2 most esteemed1 top drabble5 top drabblist

The Stubs

The sea was freezing, the current was strong, but she dared to swim. Nine years old, she could swim like a fish, so her father said. Her parents sat proudly upon the pebbles, fully clothed, waving.

Old Mrs Williams swam every day, rain, shine, winter or summer. As she swam by this child, duty-bound to warn her, she yelled “Watch out for the STUBS!”

Panic set in… was it a sea monster, or another name for a shark? She swam frantically, reaching the shore.

“Those hidden wind breakers can break your toes when it’s high tide,” said Mrs Williams, later.


Mary flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her jacket for perhaps the tenth time. Apprehensively she rehearsed the words of the ceremony in her head. She dared not, must not make any mistakes on such an important occasion. A wedding was the greatest day of a person's life, or so it was said.

The groom appeared, anxious and pale, clad in a smart dinner suit.

The nervous, white gowned bride took her place beside him.

Mary cleared her throat and began, "It is my honour and privilege as a priest to join you, Harry, and you, Ellen, in wedlock."

The Rhinoceros

The lion rushes towards me.

“Hey, Leo,” I say.

“Hey, Neal.”

“Please, not the Rhino Neal joke again, or I’ll make jokes about zodiac signs.”

Savanna banter, eh?

The excruciating pain rips through me just before I hear the crack of the rifle. I crash to the ground, blood spurting from my shattered shoulder.

The poachers swarm round me, sawing at my horns. Another bullet would be merciful but I guess they’re scared of alerting the park rangers. As they disappear back into the bush, large birds circle above me. Please let me die before they peck out my eyeballs.

Ken Magee Merits

8 most prolific3 most esteemed4 top drabble10 top drabblist


Peter thinks that plaits look delightful on his daughter, or the neighbour's little girl, or adorning the head of a supermarket checkout girl, or even the barmaid who usually serves his pint.

With his wife, though, it is a different matter.

He yearns to run his hands through her golden tresses and feel her silky locks tickling his bare skin.

He pleads with her to loose her hair at bedtime.

Ellie frowns. “It will tangle and take too long to comb in the morning,” she says.

Peter heartily dislikes plaits. He buys pretty combs for Ellie and lives in hope.

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