Okay, so let me begin by saying the title is actually a thing. And it’s a thing you can do easily!

A drabble is a 100 word story. Some people say it has to be exactly 100 words, and some people say it’s just anything exactly or below 100. The former group of people say that anything below 100 words is a ficlet or a snippet (as well as other words). But to be honest, in my opinion, it doesn’t really matter.

Anyway. Drabbles were started as short stories but many fanfiction writers have taken them on. Challenges have been created that you can find quickly online, that you can easily take part in.

Why should you write drabbles? Well, whilst theyΒ canΒ take a long time if you do them ‘right’, you can do them pretty quickly as well. Why not knock one up right now, during the ad break of the TV show you’re watching, or once you finish that chapter of your book ? Even jot one down when you’re boiling the kettle for a nice cuppa.

And they can be super fun! πŸ˜€ Try a fanfiction, or just a snippet of one of the moments your character lives through.

So I propose a challenge. Write a drabble and post it in the comments!

Good luck & have fun!Β 


That Horse I Stole {Short Story}

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That Horse I Stole

That Horse I Stole

Wordcount: 475
By the way, this challenge was to start each sentence with a different letter of the alphabet (so 26 sentences in all). I tried my best!


Arabs are known for being flighty, and this one is no different. Barely staying on his back, I wrap my hands into his mane. Clamping my legs around his sides, I try not to fall onto the pavement as he canters along the road. Dangerously, he nips in and out of the paths of cars, and I lean close his neck, desperately trying to stay on his slick back. Elegant, slender legs are steadily being damaged by the hard surface of the concrete.

Finally, he comes to a stop by a lay-by with a patch of grass next to it. Gently, once I am sure he isn’t going to take off again, and being careful not to kick him with my boot, I slide from his back and land on the path next to his quivering body, bending my legs so that I don’t injure myself. β€œHey now,” I say, stroking his neck. β€œIt’s ok big boy, it’s ok.” Jelly is what my legs felt like, and I try not to fall over. Keeping close to the horse’s side, I lead him to the green stretch of grass at the side of the road, out of the way of the cars that simply would not slow down.

Ladybugs crawl in the grass beneath my bare feet. Momentarily waiting to see if I would stop him, the horse dips his head, gnawing at the grass. Nearly toppling over, I steady myself on his strong back, burying my face in his mane at the same time.

Obviously I have to return him, I think to myself. Pity would do nothing for me now, no matter how bad a time I was having.

Quietly, I turn so I don’t startle the beast. Rather stereotypically, he had turned out to as headstrong as his Arabian reputation said. Sighing, I pat his neck dejectedly. Tensing my muscles, I spring lightly onto his back, pushing my hands into his thick mane. Ugly tears roll down my face, causing me to have a small coughing fit as I struggle to breath and stay upright; I cluck my tongue, turning the horse back to the field I’d stolen him from.

Vacantly, my mind as empty as a dead man’s heart, we make our way slowly back to his home. Walking is the only gate I feel safe to go at now, after the horse bolted.

‘Xenial’ is the word that comes to mind when I think of the Murphy’s, the family I stole the horse from, but I don’t think they will be very friendly when they see me riding up to their daughter’s paddock on her horse: in fact, when I to see them in the paddock, the daughter in tears, she spins around and glares at me, a look of pure, unfractured hatred in her normally cheerful eyes. β€œYou!” she spits, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. Zestlessly, I squeeze the horse’s sides slightly and accept my fate with a sigh, pushing him up the hill to the paddock.


Do you like the stories I post, or not? Should I continue posting?Β 

Feedback appreciated! πŸ™‚Β 

The First One {Short Story}

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The First One


The First One

TW: Drugs, murder.
Word count: 994


The tea was steadily getting colder, but still remained untouched. The marshmallow had been mutilated to the point that it probably wasn’t a marshmallow any more, and parts of it lay scattered on the saucer.

Fingertips tapped on the table top. Hard, blue eyes stared, watching various people go about their daily business outside.

Inside the coffee shop, there was a general buzz of content as the first flakes of snow fell.

A young man passed her by and sat opposite a pretty woman. He laughed and reached over to hold her hand. The woman’s eyes flitted to hers, and the girl stared, almost unseeingly, back at her. Shifting uncomfortably, the woman dropped her gaze.

The bell above the door rang as it was opened by a boy, no older than 16. He kicked grit from his boots whilst his friends passed him. They were jostling and laughing, but that wasn’t what made the girl smile.

Pushing tousled, brown hair away from his face, the boy’s gaze met hers. It dropped a split second later, and a hint of red appeared over his cheeks. Brown, intelligent eyes were enhanced by bright, white teeth, and he followed his friends to get drinks. With a skip in her heart as the handsome one looked at her again, the girl watched as the group sat opposite her table.

The book that had been used as a prop was ignored, and the girl put her full attention on the boy opposite. He sat, slouching but still managing to look interested in what the others were saying. He took small sips from his hot chocolate, pushing the hair from his face every so often.

Now and then, he would glance up at her, and she would pretend to be watching someone else, or would stare down at her book, feeling when he looked away.

Eventually, the three boys stood. The brown haired one turned her way one more time and smiled, before following his friends out of the door, which clanged shut behind them.

The girl stood. Leaving her untouched tea behind, she picked up a heavy duffel bag and opened the door, silent save for a light ringing of the bell.

For once, her tiny frame worked to her advantage. She followed the boys in a practised manner, waiting outside whilst they went into shops, always pretending to be engrossed in something else, making sure they didn’t notice her too much.

Long, loose hair flowed down her back like a white waterfall. Rubber soled boots made no sound on the concrete. Her leather jacket kept the rain off when a few drops decided to fall.

Finally, the boys split up. The girl followed the handsome one as he went this way and that, down the small alleys that no one else went down in the city. She watched carefully as he bought something from a dodgy looking guy, and, once again, waited outside as he disappeared into a club for an hour.

It was nearly 2AM by the time she caught him alone. He seemed sober and his eyes were clear, although she suspected he was under the influence of something or other.

β€œWhat’s a pretty girl like you doing out so early?” he asked, stumbling upon her leaning against the wall just outside. She shrugged and batted her eyelids daintily.

β€œWaiting for a handsome guy like you to come along, I suppose,” she twittered falsely. The boy smiled, almost warily, and she thought she saw a hint of recognition in his eyes.

β€œDidn’t I see you earlier? In Mrs J’s?” he asked. The girl uttered a high, fake laugh.

β€œOh, perhaps. Weren’t you the handsome one that came through the door?” She stroked his arm, and the boy looked more at ease.

β€œPerhaps,” he smiled. β€œCan I walk you home, then?”

The girl felt a rush through her veins. β€œOh, yes please. It’s a little scary out here at night, what with all those strange men around.”

The boy nodded, and she reached down to pick up her duffel bag. β€œOh here,” he said, β€œlet me carry that for you.” She shrugged, and passed it to him; he bent momentarily over the unexpected weight, before straightening, and passing it to his right hand, so he could walk with his left to her. β€œBlimey, what have you got in here?”

β€œOh, just some…books,” she said, saying the first thing that came to her mind. β€œShall we go, then?”

Casually, the girl walked off, and the boy hesitated for a moment before following her sashaying hips.

Street after street passed them by as the boy tried to make small talk. The girl answered in short sentences, still trying to keep the pretty tone to her voice. A small alley came up on her right, and she halted.

β€œOh, I know this place! This is a short cut,” she lied, holding out her hand for his. He took it without thinking, and she tugged him down the gloomy passage.

They met no one. Heard nothing. It seemed as if they were in their own little bubble. Perfect, the girl thought, a sly smile on her face.

β€œSo, where does this lead to?” the boy asked, peering back over his shoulders as the darkness engulfed them, taking them away from the comforting, orange street lights.

β€œSomewhere special,” she replied vaguely.

When she felt sure that no one would see nor hear them, she pulled the boy towards her before pushing him against the wall. He dropped the duffel bag in shock, and they both heard the clanging of metal.

Frozen, the boy stayed tight against the wall. She reached down and slowly unzipped the bag. Drawing a knife from its depths, she held it up, so it glinted in the slither of moonlight that came from between the buildings.

This was it.

The first one.

The first boy she would ever kill.Β 


Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated! πŸ™‚Β 

To Draw or Not To Draw…?

Hallo! Who here is a good artist/likes to draw?

Because I would absolutely love to be able to draw all of my characters!

So, what’s my challenge for Christmas day? Be able to draw my characters with a pretty good degree of skill! Ha! This is gonna be a heck of a challenge. πŸ˜€

But, you know, I’m looking forward to it.

And I think that my main challenge is going to be the hardest: I want to be able to draw Matt Smith before, or on, Christmas Day with pretty good skill for a ‘Goodbye Eleven’ for Doctor Who!

Can’t wait.

Keep writing – NaNoWriMo finishes tomorrow! How are you guys going for it?

NaBloPoMo Index