Ye Olde Drabble Archive

[enterprikayak]

This thread is a place for you to post a copy of your drabble from whichever thread you created it in. These drabbles are really good and it would be sad to lose them in the back pages of a long thread.

So: just copies of drabbles here...no comments on the drabbles or anything else. It's A Drabble Archive.

I'll start it by posting up all the ones that have already been done (cause obviously, I have no life, ).

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not Just Dessert: A Drabble
Rating: G
Genre: Drama, Romance

It sat on a plate on the deck in front of her. The object of her meditative consideration was a gooey wedge of lumpy brown sugar and nuts. She'd never previously considered a food item worthy of such concentrated mental effort, but the feelings she'd come to associate with it had disturbed her sleep to such an extent that she'd decided to retrieve another piece for further study.

His lips. They were what came to her mind when she looked at the confection in front of her. Would they taste as sweet? It was a question worthy of further contemplation.

Fate: A Drabble
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama

The day was bright: hot. The light beating down too much for the tired, thin shrouds of crêpey eyelids. Too much for the emaciated skin stretched taut over frail skullbones. A sudden, final comprehension that her imminent annihilation would slice away the discomfort caused milky, acid panic to rise thick in her throat. Fighting hyperventilation, Hoshi squeezed her eyes shut, felt the sinewy arm of her husband Takashi hard against her side. The dry, ragged breath of this latest batch of Purges quickened as the officer finished speaking with a colleague. Turning—almost as an afterthought—he lifted his phaser.

Title: "Excuse Me, Miss? Is This Your Button?
Rating: PG
Type: Drabble

He recalled the first time he’d laid eyes on her: she’d entered his universe silkily, like a cat.

But before he’d even touched her hand — “Trip….my friends call me Trip” — she’d smacked him smartly down with her velvet paw (as cats’ll do):

“I’ll try to remember that…”

He gazed up in interest at T’Pol’s navel, hovering five centimetres above his nose.

You know, he mused philosophically, counting the fuchsia pyjama buttons she had “accidentally” left undone this time. I reckon she’ll probably manage to remember my name after all.

He tried not to feel a little bit smug, but failed.

Wedding Gift: A Drabble
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, AU

It was human instinct that made him do it, an action as out of place in this alien setting as running naked in public. The instant his lips grazed her cheek he knew what he’d done. The kiss was meant to be a comfort—whether to himself or to the woman he loved he wasn’t sure. Instead he’d embarrassed her and branded her an unfaithful bride. And he couldn’t take it back.

So he watched her walk away with his gut twisted in a knot, and did nothing—said nothing. Silence was the only thing he had left to give.

It's easy to slip past the biped that daddy has watching me. Daddy is busy talking again. It seems all daddy does now is talk. The human biped pack is trying to get the other biped packs to join into one pack. Daddy is leading the talks. We quadrupeds are much more efficient when we join packs. He doesn't need me right now. But Uncle Trip and Auntie T'Pol do, they just lost their pup. I've felt the sadness all around me. I'm headed for their den, if there is one thing my people know it's how to comfort bipeds.

“Write a drabble”, she said. Just like that, as if it's something anyone should be able to do. What the heck's a 'drabble' anyway? Something to do with a story of one hundred words according to the dictionary, but there don't seem to be any standard rules about counting contractions and hyphenation and so on. And that leaves the tricky issue of what to write about. And how to write it in an interesting way. A dry technical report would be no good at all. He shook his head glumly. Yes, he'd definitely need Hoshi's help with this one.

He was running, he was running, he was smelling, he was smelling. Floor hard and cold. Feet were here, feet were here. He would run and smell and smell and smell and run and run and run until he found someone who had cookies in their pocket. People legs went by and stopped and turned and he didn’t have time to stop and smell hello cause he had to keep running down the hall: sometimes, if he stopped, they would try to pick him up and he would squirm and squirm and it hurt his back. So he kept on.

Just watching them together turned his stomach. It was just wrong, the way they sat so close together on movie nights and always seemed to accidentally find themselves at the same table in the mess hall. When the captain wasn’t aiding and abetting their obscene liaisons by inviting them to dinner in the captain’s mess, one of them was always in the other’s quarters for one of a million lame reasons.

Neuropressure. Yeah. What bullshit.

He could hardly wait until that creepy doctor’s next sleep cycle so he could sneak into sickbay and do the deed. They so deserved it.

Fascinated, he wondered around the station. Suddenly two iron arms came out of nowhere. With a iron grip they pulled him inside the wall into a room. He saw people lying on beds with wires into their heads. He screamed for help, but the machine was relentless. In a second he was pushed on a biobed and imprisoned by metal bounds. Wires were drilled into his brain. All his energy was sucked out of him. He froze in time and space. The only thing he could think before he floated into nowhere was “I hope they will find me.”

They’d abandoned it on this barren world to die. Didn’t they understand it was sentient? After abducting it from its home, from the family it loved, they’d kept it in a small plexiglass box. It tried to communicate, but the dark-haired one hadn’t understood its language of pheromones and subtle movements. They’d fed it lettuce and tried to make it happy with argon lamps. As its health waned, the jovial one suggested feeding it to his bat. But the cruel dark-haired one refused to let him end its pain, demanding instead that it be stranded here on this lifeless world.

I wake up everyday and still catch my breath. I'm here with these people; these people who directed the course of change of the universe. Of course the Q might contest that, but still these people are my heroes. Oh yes they are a challenging lot. They do create a lot of problems for me. A lot! But seeing them, for real, not just images it's... indescribable. So I hide in plain sight, and live among my heroes, cleaning up their messes. And silently thank them for the future they create. Time for breakfast. I have to go to work.

He felt sick. Not as sick as after he watered some sacred trees. Not as sick as the big man gave him too much cheese to eat. No, he felt sick of disappointment. They wrote drabbles about everyone. Even Slugo. Now he was promised a drabble. He had wiggled his tail in pure joy thinking about it. It was better than cheese and almost as good as a hug from the captain.
But no. Instead of a drabble about him…. It was about that man who only good talent was, to make scrambled eggs. Sigh. It was a dog’s life.

She had observed her daughter from the day she was born. Now her lost daughter had returned to her. She saw how her daughters eyes softened when she looked at this alien. How her voice became strong and confident as she defended her relationship with him. She saw the way her daughters body relaxed in his presence. How her daughter warmed herself to him. She cared about this blond stranger. More, her affection was deep as the waters in his world. But it was wrong. His species meant chaos. It wasn't the Vulcan way. So she had to stop it.

"It’s Micro-singularities.”

"You on that again. They don’t exist.”

“They are responsible for the holes, here, here and here.”

“Nonsense. That was meteorites, no micro black Holes.

They have been proven. They do exist and they were responsible for those holes.”

If you say so but I still say they don’t exist.

You can see the evidence yourself. You cannot deny it.”

I give up. You are right. Can we move on to the important stuff.

“I believe it was the micro singularities that caused their problem.”

You would blame Micro singularities for the common cold.”

That is not true.”

She blinked in astonishment. He surely wasn't suggesting that she should have an intimate conversation with him? And Touch him? How absurd!

Clearly he hadn't been briefed on proper etiquette. Or perhaps he had. She narrowed her eyes speculatively at him. The greater probability, she decided, was that he was trying to provoke her into a dispute. At a formal ceremony such as this, it might even be grounds to have her dismissed. Looking distastefully at the outstretched hand she considered her options; clearly some sort of response was expected.

And, after a moment's thought, she had the perfect reply.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Whew. If I missed any, then just stick it up on yer own.

So: post your drabbles in the appropriate thread (ie, "guess who", "cheats", etc) and get your accolades there. But also post a copy here for eternal archiving.

[enterprikayak]

Dark Drabble

She checked herself in the mirror. she was ready. She left the bathroom. She walked slowly toward Jon. His face was filled with anticipation and desire. She moved towards Jon hands held out for him. Jon moved forward, he was smiling. She stopped, hesitated. He halted, then resumed walking towards her a smile of triumph on his face. She moved again. Jon had forced her into this illegal marriage to be his Consort which she did not want for her. Tonight he would learn the queen of his wedding night was Death. A quick death at her hands.

[Distracted]

I’m a person, not an “it”. I know this is true, even though Master and Mistress like to pretend not. They can’t help it. It’s how they were raised. But they feed me well, and pat my head when I please them.

I’m helping them make a baby. Babies are very important—at least they are when they aren’t born like me.

Now I’ve heard things, seen things, tasted things, and felt things I never imagined existed--and they don’t exist anymore, not for me.

If being a person is such a good thing, why does it hurt so much?

I know everything they don't say...

I know the most outgoing human, is the most private.

I know the gregarious alien is the most homesick of us.

I know our Captain is ambitious, enjoys his power.

I know the most reserved of us longs to be accepted for who she is.

I know a man who has only known stars, wonders if he'd be happier on solid ground.

I know the one who protects us, protects his only true family. But with all of that he still feels alone.

I just wish he knew what I can't say. I'm here.

She fascinates me. Her curiosity is out of place. We do not usually show our curiosity so openly, we Vulcans. The traditionalists find it vulgar. I do not agree.

Each day that I forgo meditation, stretch the boundaries of the safe and mundane, and dare to challenge the status quo, she becomes more attractive to me. There is something untamed about her—something unexpected hidden within her cold and conventional exterior. The humans have changed her. Or perhaps she has always been this way. I want to know the truth. Whether she wants me or not, the woman is mine.

He is pale human putty in my hands. My smile drips with malice and triumph, yet the poor fool sees only warmth and seduction. Ha! So it is with all male creatures. I mockingly obtain his official permission before I strike with my first weapon: my soft, open lips against the corner of his all-too-willing mouth, neck, earlobe. When the Vulcan prude disturbs us with her dry update, he can hardly speak for desire. I try my utmost not to laugh. Instead, I impede his semi-coherent response by peeling his garment open at the neck and biting his chest hair.

I want this man! No, I need this man! He doesn't notice. All he sees is his soldier and my family's wealth and power. He thinks I would never look his way. Idiot! What do I want with those moronic fops? No other man would have the vision to find honor in those of our most hated enemies. No other man, would have been able to see what allies the humans can be. I'm outside his door now. For the first time in my life I'm terrified. The door opens, he's surprised. I love this man, time to show him.

The smell is irresistible. I must have him. I will have him.

He thinks he's hers, she thinks so too; foolish youngsters, as if that ever mattered: he will be mine.

So flushed, so red, so flustered by a simple touch, and I have so many touches. As I press against him he squirms so delightfully I can't resist pressing even closer. And why should I? He calls to me, and I will have him.

He doesn't understand. He will. We are a patient people, and I will not be denied. He will be mine, I can taste him already.

I am doing all I can to remain objective. My notes are extensive, a documentation of this monumental experimental opportunity. Whenever possible I refer to the subject by the objective pronoun “it”, as befits a non-sentient life form.

I have not been able to discover the means by which the creature has temporarily borrowed sentience and memories. Genetic memory seems a scientific impossibility, and yet there he sits, smiling at me and asking for pie.

I am doing all I can to remain objective, but I cannot shake the feeling that tomorrow I will be forced to kill my son.

I knew why she came the minute she entered my quarters. Knowing and believing are different things. I noticed her. I'm a man, no man with a pulse would not notice her. But I'm her Captain, and a smart Captain doesn't get involved with subordinates unless it's for drinking ale. Well, I never claimed to possess exceptional intelligence. But now my back is against the wall and I have two choices, take her, or arrest her. I know why she's here, but I didn't know I wanted her to be here. Until now. Take her it is. I'm not worthy.

When he opened his mind to the possibilities, the strings of emotions pulled at him with great force.

They were blowing him away like a storm in the desert: dangerous, consuming, primitive, real.

They were destruction.

They were the reasons to live with logic.

But he liked them.

He could control them just in time. It made him feel like walking on fire.

But even better it was when he thrived on some else's emotions.

In their dreams. In their mind.

It felt overwhelming powerful.

He knew he had to stop. But he needed this.

It was his addiction.

“ I will enjoy having you as a prisoner,”

“I hae heard of Vulcan Mating habits. Is it true that your men kill one another over a Female? Do you want me to kill one for you?”

She said nothing but was repelled inside. She waited. He drew closer his breath and odor were offensive. She stood her ground.

The sneer on his face was obvious as was the Lust. She was happy she was not alone in a room with him.

“Leave her alone.” said someone.

He scowled but said no more although his face said what his mouth wouldn’t.

[Distracted]

Part 2, since the last post was so long.

I don't make friends easily. I never learned how to open up to people. It wasn't done, not in our home. When I left, I thought I'd learn how to make friends quickly. I did very well with superficial dalliances with a variety of wonderful women whom I will always value. But friendships alluded me. I suppose my years as an operative had a lot to do with it. But mostly, it was my own self in the way. Then a smart-mouth Commander, and a skittish Ensign started breaking through the training. Before I even realized it, I had friends.

He might see her gain. Who knew where the Enterprise might go.
She said she wanted to see him again. That much he knew.
It would be nice to see her home world. Her people.
Yup, maybe they would sometime wander around to where he would see he again.
He wondered how she would react when he showed up? It was pleasant to think about. Their parting had been nice he had to admit that. He remembered it with fondness.
T’Pol couldn’t object , after all she had only seen her that one time and that was all..

She still won't face what's plain to see. Was my own logic ever this flawed? Where is the impetuous child who stood ready to defy her whole world? But now too timid to admit a simple truth. If she only understood the chance she has, she would surely grasp her future with both hands, cherish it and hold onto it with all her strength. Because it could be taken from her at any moment. As mine was, those many years ago.

But I cannot tell her. She doesn't understand. She doesn't dare understand. Youth is so wasted on the young.

"Hey diddle, diddle, the Cat and the fiddle
Trip ws over thee moon
Porthos laughed to see such sport
and T'Pol ran off with her engineer groom

"Hey diddle, diddle the Cat and the Fiddle
Trip was over the Moon
Archer said hurry, hurry you must leave soon
Trip and T'Pol left on thier Honeymoon

Hey diddle, diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle
Ttrip and T’Pol were over Moon
The got a bundle of joy
Chip was a bouncing baby Boy

Hey diddle, diddle, the Cat and the fiddle
Trip and T’Pol were over the Moon


And...

The Prisoners story
I show him a façade without emotion or even pity
I would shout
“I love him, I love him, he is mine for all eternity”
Yet
My voice is neutral without warmth, filling him with uncertainty
I know,
The Prison which binds me, the walls and bars are of my own making.
Because
Each stone is chipped from my Heart and each bar is tears from my eyes unshed.
He looks
In my eyes but the bars there will not reveal what is in them.
So
My Prison with walls of stone and bars of Steel unknown
Still
Keeps me from the one who loves me and I love him

And also...


She had finished Elizabeth Brownings poem. She closed her eyes and thought
How do I low you my Trip
“I love you for the Blue of your Eyes, like the Azure skies of your home world”
“I love you for your smile that is yours alone . That no other has.
“I love you for your odor that saps my strength and draw me in to you.”
I love you for your arms as they hold me at night, tenderly but strong, sheltering me with love.”
Mostly you have my Love because you are you.. Holder of all that I am.”

And check out this thread for a whole series of drabbles by Misplaced

[Silverbullet]

Dis, I have a new drabble in the Numero Uno thread. Asso left a comment on it but no one has looked at t his comment or the drabble.

SB

[Cogito]

“You're coming, right?”

Noncommittally, “Perhaps.”

“You've got to come. You'll love it. 'She's alive! Alive!'.”

He seems undaunted by the eyebrow.

“It's not like you can read this one. You've got to come!”

“I have a considerable quantity of data to analyse, but if I ...”

“No way! You're not missing this just to analyse some old scans. You're coming and that's final.”

Silence. But as the doors open she draws two fingers gently down his cheek before swiftly stepping out.

I clear my throat softly.

Who knew a human could go that colour?

[Cogito]

“Look out, look out! We're going to crash! Turn away, TURN AWAY!”

“Hold on tight, son!”

With a desperate bank they veered away from the danger and arced wildly back across to the far side. He clutched wildly at his pilot as they swerved to avoid the incoming fire that pursued them. Finally, swooping back down to safety his pilot brought him in for a perfect three point landing in ko-mekh's lap before dropping beside them with a huge thump, making them both bounce. Ko-mekh ruffled his hair affectionately before turning to Daddy. “Did you enjoy that?”

[Cogito]

She would have to get up soon. The soft cadence of his heartbeat told her he was still asleep, and the exhilarating tickle of his breath against the side of her neck sent her thoughts scattering. Focusing with an effort she decided that she had eighty six minutes remaining until she absolutely had to get up – that is if she abbreviated her shower and skipped her daily callisthenics. Possibly eighty seven minutes, if the turbolift was free. Yes, definitely eighty seven.

She relaxed back into his comforting embrace.

She would have to get up soon. But not just yet.

[Cogito]

I noticed. You have to, in my line of work. You could almost say it's in the blood. Who's talking to whom. More importantly, who isn't. I suspect I was the first to see it. Certainly before either of them did.

She frowns when he sits at her table without being invited – but saves her meal until he's there. He shouts at the “impossible Vulcan who won't admit she's wrong”, but still nags her to watch his film.

And when either has a problem, where do they go?

So of course I noticed. How could you miss it?

[Cogito]

The dress was a mistake. It's just that it was so nice to get out of uniform for a change, and be a person instead of a serial number. And have people notice me as a woman, and not a tool that's handy to have around when they have a tricky problem that calls for my unique skills. But now I'm thinking the uniform would be a better idea. Now I'm thinking that he's noticed me as a woman. There's no doubt, from that look in his eyes. And I'm thinking that, under the circumstances, perhaps I'd rather he didn't.

[Cogito]

“Aha, sneak up behind me, would you?

“Take That! … takatakataka … kaboom!”

“Ensign, ...”

“Woosh! Yeooow … takatakataka …takatakataka ... kaboom!”

“Ensign!”

“Oh no, here comes another one, 'beware the hun in the sun!' …

“Whoosh! Takatakataka … takatakataka … takata ..KABOOM!”

“ENSIGN!!!

“Need I remind you? Firstly that we are NOT under attack. Secondly that this shuttle pod is equipped with neither 'fifty cal machine guns' nor 'cannons'. Thirdly that the commander has just had lunch?

“Kindly cease these manoeuvres at once and resume your original flight plan!”

[Cogito]

Her article in last month's journal had provoked a storm of controversy in the scientific community, and she had a considerable number of responses to read through. Reaching the end of the page she tilted her head back and waited expectantly. With practiced familiarity a hand reached down and placed another piece in her mouth, and she gave the fingers an appreciative kiss as they withdrew. She felt lips pressed to the top of her head in return as the arm retook its place around her. She shivered as the morsel wrapped her tongue in sensual pleasure. Life was good.

[Cogito]

He jerked his head back and the razor sharp blade hissed past his eyes. The move left him off balance and he adjusted his footing and stepped back to gain time. Time that his opponent clearly wasn't about to allow him, pursuing with a series of vicious slashes with enough weight behind them to decapitate had they connected. He managed to deflect the blows with his own blade, but both of them knew it was only a matter of time now. “You're right,” he admitted, lifting his visor in surrender. “This suits you much better than the EM33.”

[enterprikayak]

He is a strong man, but not brutish with it. He has a capacity to command, to take charge, yet he was also gentle and uncertain. He has the power to soar into the scattered powder of the stars, and yet he must dissemble for one kiss. I had never honestly hoped to find a man with a quick and inquisitive wit who would value me as an equal. Who would think that such a one could descend from the sky? Yet I, sitting here among my tinctures and simples, my paper and wax, have no power to hold him.

[panyasan]

Every time he had hit this Vulcan wall of logic. It was like all there was: logic, no emotions. But when time slipped by, he more and more saw the man behind the Ambassador with his passion for the alliance between their races.
He came to like their talks, his wisdom, his dry humour.
Slowly the Ambassador had become his good friend.
So when the blast came, he acted.
Flames consumed him. Pain pierced through him.
He died in the arms of this alien, who showed in the last minutes of his life, he had become his best friend too.