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19/06/2019
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Ann Patras

Africa, humour, family, fun.
 

Drabbles

A Drabble, My Way

And now, the time is here

To find the words to make a story.

In just a hundred words

It should not be too rude or gory.

A start, something inside,

A cunning end is what is called for.

But finding what to write

Just makes my head sore.

I’ve looked inside my books

To get a glimpse of inspiration

But all I have achieved

Is one blank page and much frustration.

I tried to fill my head

I gave my son a game of Scrabble.

But still I could not write

A decent drabble.

Oh no, I cannot write…


Crazy Life in England

I walked out of my parents’ house, in which I had grown up many years ago, to find my best friend from South Africa was now living next door. But, it would seem, not for long.

Her two sisters (surely she’d had only one, and a brother?) were removing her belongings, asking her which she wanted to keep and what could be discarded. What was going on?

They told me that Tracey’s dentist had insisted she needed to be placed in a residential care facility. What? Tracey was only forty-eight.

Then I woke up from another of my stupid dreams.


Death in the Forest

There was an unfamiliar stirring in the forest. From some way off, the young sapling could hear strange murmurs that steadily grew into laughter. She thought it was good that someone was enjoying the forest.

But as the sounds got closer, she sensed a menacing undertone to the laughter. A discomforting chill exuded from the deep voices that generated a cruel sense of excitement.

Suddenly there was a scream. A piercing scream so loud it embraced the entire forest. Even the solid, lichen-covered trunks of the largest trees could not mute nor subdue the screaming machine.

The deforestation had begun.


First Words Worth

I WANDERED, unsure which route to take through the woods, where every shade of green was to be found.

LONELY for some creature company, I made my way along a path.

AS I walked, I wondered how many species had travelled this way before me.

A squirrel raced up a tree, startling two thrushes from their leafy perch. A fox barked, way off in the distance.

CLOUD covered what little of the sky I could see, until I reached the glade. Suddenly the sun thrust its brightness into the clearing, illuminating a host of golden daffodils in all their glory.


Strangers in the Night

It was no use, she’d have to get up. The dogs had been barking like crazy for the past ten minutes.

She slipped on a robe and made her way outside. The dogs instantly quietened. It was still dark as she silently made her way towards the gate.

Hiding in the shadows of a hedge, she could hear movement. Strange swishing noises she could not place, odd footsteps on the dirt lane, coming closer. In this remote area, no-one should be around.

Suddenly four black faces, shrouded in white, appeared at the gate.

The neighbouring farmer’s sheep had escaped.


Surprise!

They tried to stay awake to hear him coming but they were both too tired.

A sudden loud bump woke them.

“Did you hear that?'

“Yes.'

“It came from downstairs.'

“I know'

“Let’s go and see.'

“NO!'

“If we just creep down the stairs …'

“NO. What if it’s a burglar?'

“It won’t be a burglar, it’ll be HIM.'

“Well let’s listen for when he’s gone.'

But heavy eyelids over-took.

At 7:00am they woke up and raced down the stairs.

Good job they hadn’t ventured down during the night.

A burglar had stolen all the presents from under the tree.


Night Walking

Marti walked slowly down the lane, certain that she wasn’t alone.

She knew she shouldn’t have gone out at night, especially on this road.

An army of frogs croaked noisily from a neighbour’s abandoned swimming pool, and across the valley the call of a pair of royal owls could be heard.

Suddenly there was a furious rustling noise behind her and she spun round as a black shape flew at her, landing on her white coat.

“What do you two think you’re doing out there? Come inside immediately!“

Marti and Jaydee slunk back home, tails between their legs.

“Bad dogs!“


The Three Little Pigs Mk II

When the large hand’s at six and the small is at four

Mr Butcher comes knocking, loud at your door.

Don’t be afraid. But don’t let him come in.

Not by the hairs of your chinny chin chin.

He’ll huff and he’ll puff ‘til your house blows away,

But you know that you have somewhere else you can stay.

It will happen again at your brother’s – you’ll see.

So you’ll you both move along to house number three.

But an earthquake had struck and in ruins it lies

So the three little pigs all end up in pork pies.

Yummy!


Colour Me Dull

She ran out of the doorway and collided with a man in a brown shirt. He gazed into her blue eyes.

“What’s your name?'

“Violet. What’s yours'

“Graham, my friends call me Gray.'

“I love your red hair,' he said, “and that green dress you’re wearing is beautiful. Let’s celebrate us meeting, with a brown ale at the White Horse on Blackfriars.'

If she agrees, thought Gray, my friends will be green with envy.

She noticed his drab olive jacket.

“No thanks.' She replied.

“Why didn’t you go?' Her friend Scarlet asked later.

“Oh, Gray was too dull for me.'