Thank you for stopping by! First a thank you to Michael Brookes, who is clearly very passionate about the art of drabbles! I have an affinity for short fiction so I was quite happy to sign up my blog as a stop in the Festival of Drabbles.
A drabble is a story that is told in one hundred words- it can be a hair-pulling but rewarding experience. I wrote my first drabble about six years ago; it was about a man who went for a swim in a forbidden mystical lake, and was missing a leg when he came out of the water. The piece I wrote for the festival is called "Yuletide Celatum" (celatum is latin for secret) and I hope you enjoy it.
Another Christmas Eve night. I smile, watching the neighbours from my living room window, as they perform another candle light vigil for Santa Claus-who has not graced the skies for half a decade. Empty stockings, unfulfilled lists and despondent little faces are now the season’s norm. Five years ago I wrote to Santa, asking him to save my marriage; he slid down my chimney, bellowing ho, ho, ho, bearing a marital bliss guide. The title of wife, has been absent ever since. Many a wick will burn for St. Nick; he and his reindeer are buried under my mango tree.
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Have a great tour of the festival!
Olivia
Follow Olivia on Social Media
A drabble is a story that is told in one hundred words- it can be a hair-pulling but rewarding experience. I wrote my first drabble about six years ago; it was about a man who went for a swim in a forbidden mystical lake, and was missing a leg when he came out of the water. The piece I wrote for the festival is called "Yuletide Celatum" (celatum is latin for secret) and I hope you enjoy it.
Another Christmas Eve night. I smile, watching the neighbours from my living room window, as they perform another candle light vigil for Santa Claus-who has not graced the skies for half a decade. Empty stockings, unfulfilled lists and despondent little faces are now the season’s norm. Five years ago I wrote to Santa, asking him to save my marriage; he slid down my chimney, bellowing ho, ho, ho, bearing a marital bliss guide. The title of wife, has been absent ever since. Many a wick will burn for St. Nick; he and his reindeer are buried under my mango tree.
###
Have a great tour of the festival!
Olivia
Follow Olivia on Social Media
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