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julie anne robinson



Julie Anne Robinson Merits

18 most prolific9 most esteemed15 top drabblist

Scene of the Crime

She struggled out of his grasp and ran towards the door. She could hear his footsteps running towards her and the panic intensified. The door was getting closer but she did not dare to assume that she would reach it in time. She screamed, but knew that the nearest neighbour was a quarter of a mile away. His footsteps drew closer and she fumbled at the handle of the door, not knowing what she would do even if she did manage to escape. A heavy hand gripped her shoulder and the fight began to leave her. The director called “Cut.'

A Woman's Work Is Never Done

Megan sighed. The house was in turmoil. The dishes piled high, the hoovering left undone. Bags, shoes and other detritus dumped all over. It seemed that it was her role to tidy, despite the fact she worked long shifts.

“This has got to stop,' she told her family.

Her husband sheepishly agreed.

The next day she arrived home to find things in an even worse state. Their attempt at tidying had made things messier.

“Just leave it, I’ll do it next time,' she sighed.

Her husband winked at the children. That’s us off the hook for a while, he thought.

Dying For A Fag

June had smoked for over thirty years. Recently, the smoking began to affect her health. She wheezed at rest, her chest rattled, she was breathless and had a constant hacking cough.

The doctor diagnosed chronic lung disease and informed June that she needed oxygen to help her breathing. He strongly urged her to stop smoking.

June tried but felt unable to quit. Despite being informed of the flammable nature of oxygen, she continued to smoke. That was, until the day of the explosion.

June often said she was dying for a cigarette. On this occasion that was never more true.

Stranger Danger?

She began to hurry. She was sure that she could hear footsteps behind her.

Her pace quickened and fear gripped her. The area was quiet and there was no one around who could help her. Her mother had warned her about this particular stop in the evening, as it was poorly lit and isolated. She had always laughed off these concerns, but now she would give anything to hear her mother nagging her about it once more.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and began to scream.

“It’s alright, love,' the man said. “You dropped your purse, that’s all.'


Most stories have a structure to them. A beginning, a middle and an end. It helps to plan this way so the author knows exactly where a story is heading. A drabble is no different – 100 words to begin, develop and end a story. The ending is of great significance. I prefer to have a little twist in the tale. Something that the readers can remember about the story. This is not always easy with the limitation of 100 words. It is often harder to think of the end than the beginning. This drabble was a little easier. The End.

Happy Birthday To You.

It was her fortieth birthday tomorrow. She was sure that her husband had organised something special, a party most probably.

She awoke to find that he had already left for work. She expected to find cards and presents, but there were none. She assumed that they would be given out at the party.

Her husband called to say he was going for a drink after work. She smiled knowingly, and planned what she would wear for her party.

At 10pm she angrily went to bed. It seemed that the only surprise was that her husband had completely forgotten her birthday.

Christmas is Coming

It was getting earlier and earlier each year, Heather thought. Advent calendars for sale at Halloween, decorations alongside pumpkins, and trees next to fireworks. Stores were decorated from mid-October and gift ideas lined the aisles. In November, delivery slots were available to book at online supermarkets and Christmas markets popped up in towns.

The internet, of course, was saturated with seasonal goods. Search engines highlighted gift ideas and special offers. Christmas moved away from the religious and became more commercial as each year passed.

Despite all this, Heather still found herself frantically running around on Christmas Eve looking for presents.

Backup Plan

The ideas for her newest novel had come thick and fast. She had opened a new Word document and begun to write with a frenetic energy.

The story developed well. However, the inevitable writer’s block hit and she had to take a step backwards to try and regain her creative energy once more.

After a period of absence, she returned to the book. She was alarmed to find that the 75% of the book she had written was no longer saved on her computer.

She realised then that writer’s block was not as big a problem as she had feared.

A Nice Drop Of Red?

The man’s body was found about the same time as the flight his wife was on arrived at Heathrow Airport. The police were involved, due to the suspicious nature.

Susan was met and informed of the death. She was ruled out of involvement, due to the fact that she had been out of the country.

He had been poisoned, but with no evidence, it was referred to the Cold Case Unit.

Susan thought of the antifreeze she had injected through the cork of the red wine she’d left for him. Slow poisoning… and her husband had conveniently recycled the bottle.

Is There Anybody There?

The evening was hosted by a medium who promised to connect with those who had passed.

The medium began, very loosely connecting with a man. After pausing for a sip of water, she began again.

“I’ve got a Tom,' she said. “Tom? Thomas? Tommy?'

The room remained silent.

“Anyone?' she asked.

“I can take a Timmy,' a woman said.

“Oh good, this message is for you. Timmy wants you not to be sad anymore. He said not to worry about money and that the children will be fine.'

The lady seemed surprised, telling the medium that Timmy was her dog.

What a Drama!

Susan was alone in the world. With no job, friends or relatives close by, she felt isolated. Rarely venturing outside of her flat, her shopping and other purchases were completed online.

The one pleasure in Susan’s life was her television. She lived vicariously through the characters in the soaps she favoured. The television eased some of the loneliness she felt.

The postman brought bills and Susan avoided them, fearful of their content. When an official-looking letter arrived, Susan reluctantly opened it. It was a court summons for non-payment of television licence. Terrified, she wondered how she had let this happen.

Tarot Card, Tarot Fraud?

Madam LaSelle, international psychic and Tarot card reader, had a prime position at the Mind, Body and Spirit convention. Jane perused the stalls and then took a seat at her table.

Madam LaSelle greeted Jane.

“Hello, my dear,' she said.

“Oh, how exciting!' she continued.

“Big changes ahead, a birth, marriage, a new job and a clear injection of cash.'

“Great cards, a very busy year.'

“So much positive change.'

Jane left feeling very satisfied with the reading.

Next in the queue, Mandy, sat down. Madam LaSelle began:

“Oh, how exciting!'

“Big changes ahead, a birth, marriage, a new job…'

Early Night?

After tossing and turning, Susan wearily admitted defeat to the insomnia which plagued her. Grabbing her dressing gown, she went downstairs. This was becoming a regular occurrence. She was now only averaging two to four hours sleep per night. It was taking its toll, not only on her physical health, but also on her mental health.

She went into the kitchen and placed a pod into the coffee machine, noting that she needed more pods. She seemed to be using a lot lately. Settling down with a book and a strong coffee, she once again wondered why she couldn’t sleep.

What A Conundrum

With a first in English from Cambridge, and now a current lecturer in English and Creative Writing at Manchester University, people assumed that this would be easy for her. But the truth was that her academic qualifications were of no use today. She sat back, nerves threatening to turn into full-on panic, as the Countdown host introduced the show.

She just about managed to scrape four or five letter words and managed to not embarrass herself on the numbers rounds. The final letters round began.


It should have been easy for her. Her particular interest was in short stories.

Doom and Groom

He awoke with a sense of dread. Another wedding. It seemed that there was one every other weekend. He supposed it was his age, his friends were all starting to settle down. It wasn’t as if he was against this, far from it, it was just there was a certain rigmarole attached to weddings. The traditional church service, present in most marriages, was rigid and did not allow for any unique features.

With a certain reluctance, he arose from the bed. He would have to get moving, he did not want to be late, especially as he was the groom.

A Novel Idea

An avid reader of many genres and authors, June longed to write herself. Attending a creative writing course had only cemented that desire. She dreamed of being published, imagining her books on many shelves.

80,000 words was roughly the length required for a novel, she had learned. That was 219 words per day, if she allowed herself a year to write. Easily achievable – 219 words was nothing. She opened her laptop and started to type. Excited, she thought of holding her complete manuscript.

After two hours June stared, frustrated, at the screen. The single word ‘Prologue’ stared back at her.

Dont Judge A Book By Its Cover.

‘A Stake Through The Heart’ was the new multi-award winning bestseller novel. Movie rights had been already sold. It was scary, suspenseful and raunchy.

The local bookstore had a book signing event with the author. After queuing for hours, I went to the rear of the store where there was a table with piles of hardbacks waiting to be signed. A small, very elderly lady sat at the table. I assumed she was resting.

It was only when she asked who I wanted the book dedicated to that I realised this octogenarian was the author of this sexy, scary bestseller.

A New Term

The excitement of A-Level results was over. The place at university confirmed. It was now time to get the essentials needed for a new student. My daughter, Chloe, and I visited the bookstore, however most of the reading list needed to be purchased online. The excitement and anxiety grew, but the overall feeling was one of new starts and opportunity. Chloe was buzzing with talk of new friends and the student life. She said a new wardrobe and a laptop would complete the list.

I may have been the oldest on the course but I was determined to fit in.


After all the panic, I have reluctantly made it. However, I feel so unwell being in this waiting room. I can see some others who are as terrified as me. The dentist always brings out irrational fear in people. The sound of drills, sight of needles, smell and the white and clinical environment terrify me. I haven’t seen a dentist in years and fear that I may faint whilst in the treatment room.

I just want to run, but the job centre said I had to take the job as a trainee dental nurse or I would lose my benefits.

Double Standards

“Brush your teeth now, Molly. I wont tell you again!'

“In a minute, Mummy,' she whined.

“Now,' I replied firmly. It was the same rigmarole every night.

“I’ve done it, Mummy, can I have some juice please?'

“You know juice is bad for your teeth. We must look after them. They have to last us a lifetime,' I told her.

With Molly settled, I quickly brushed my own teeth and went into my bedroom. I removed them and placed them in the container of sterilising fluid on the bedside table.

Yes, it’s very important to take care of your teeth.

High Spirits

They were at a séance, ghost hunting. The host, claiming to be a psychic medium, was failing to deliver.

Jack yawned. “Lets leave.'

“No, we’ll have some fun instead,' whispered Michael.

In the darkness they moved objects, touched people and made noises. The medium’s surprise, when the lights were turned back on, was comical.

They touched the Ouija board. Immediately it started to spell out messages. The room was astonished.

After leaving, Jack offered “Well, that was a laugh.'

“Nice touch with the Ouija board,' replied Michael.

“I know that was you,' laughed Jack.

Michael was suddenly serious. “It wasn’t.'

The Alibi

The detective sat opposite me in the interview room.

“Where were you on the 27th when your ex-husband was attacked?' he growled.

“I was at home, watching television. The big wedding in Coronation Street – glad Molly’s shenanigans to try and split them up failed. Then Game of Thrones… I never thought they’d kill him off. And that late movie was brilliant, don’t normally like alien stuff but it was really good.'

“So were at home watching television all night?'

“Yes, never miss my shows.'

After another half-hour of questioning, I was released. Smiling, I thought: Thank God for Sky+.

Time For A Holiday

I looked at the view from the guest house window, thrilled to have found such an ideal holiday spot in the Northumbrian countryside. The house was well appointed and the countryside air was clean and refreshing.

The price was well within budget and the long-serving staff were friendly and knowledgeable. The décor was bright and fresh.

I moved through to the reception hall and looked at the various leaflets advertising local facilities. There was a lot to do in the nearby area.

The ringing phone interrupted my reverie. I answered with renewed enthusiasm. “Hello, Cherry Tree Guest House, owner speaking.'