Welcome to Week 5 of our weekly community drabble! This week’s theme was “rejoicing.”
Thank you and bravo to everyone who submitted a drabble!
Goddess of Observance
by Z. Hunter Scribner
Gods cannot afford morality, Perchta The Bright One least of all. She attended the first prehistoric jubilee, and also when the officers toasted the triumph of Kristallnacht she was there, though she wishes she were not. You must understand dear one, a god is naught but a marionette, and her strings are our dreams. Whatever we would praise and reify, she does likewise.
She was at last week’s festivities——did you notice? Upon your next fête, look into the corner, do not let your eyes slide away, see her raise her glass: ask not for whom she drinks. It is thee.
~
An End to Rejoicing
by Gideon P. Smith
The graphs couldn’t lie. An exponential rise in productivity, followed by a cliff drop at 5 billion units. Then resumption of production.
Michael’s boss peered at the screen. “ZERO production?”
“It was just a microsecond.”
“But imagine if this had lasted longer – we’d lose millions. The CEO is going to demand to know what happened so we can be sure it NEVER happens again!”
Michael checked the AI query for a third time. “So, this is going to sound ridiculous… but it appears once they hit our annual goal in just 3 days, the AI took a microsecond for… rejoicing.”
~
The Happiest of Voices
by Martin Greening
His daughter signed *Are you ready?* while his five year old granddaughter stared at the circular implant above his ear.
Is anyone ever ready? He had pulled silver, gold, and platinum disks from his walls over a decade ago, and the notes of his last performance were fading echoes now.
He gave a thumbs up, ready as he’d ever be, and the otologist adjusted the implant.
His granddaughter sat in his lap, her mouth opening and closing. He felt a pressure in his ears that grew and grew in tiny increments, until a high pitch came through.
“Hi Paw Paw.”
~
Choose Your Own Adventure
by Esker Park
The second time I shove through is even worse than the first: total cacophony. Thrash Metallica’s power chords crash over the ear-shattering screech of an alarm. The only good sounds are joyous coos from my newest set of parents.
A brutish OB/GYN jabs me repeatedly in the chest and blows his foul breath in my mouth. I freak out.
Nurse: Oxygen saturation seventy-five.
OB/GYN: To the OR! Stat!
Cut me open on my first day? No. Fucking. Way. I hate to wreck my parents’ joy, but I’m quitting this particular lousy quantum universe. They say the third time’s the charm.
~
At the End of the World
by Hannya Kay
The end of the world will come. Tomorrow. A century from now. A millennium, perhaps. After the devastation, the screams, the fading whines of fading souls, silence will fall.
Far from the ruins of all that’s been, a song will rise: from the dark folds of shaken forests, the dents of elapsed landslides, the receding rage of streams and shores, the gliding shades of thunderous clouds slowly shifting to docile flocks. As the song rises, so will the fae, the music of their prancing steps birthing flowers of hope.
And rejoice, the fae will, as they dance on our bones.
~
A New Sky
by Kai Delmas
The gray place is better than it was. Less black dust, no pain in throat. More food things running around.
Still, we stay in dark place under ground. It is home. It is safe. We squeeze eyes to see each other in the dark but often eyes are closed. We find each other with hands and feet. We share food things from gray place.
Gray place changes. High up there is no gray. It hurts the eyes. Tears run down face. But it is pretty. It is bright.
We cannot look away. It pinches our faces. It makes us smile.
~
A drabble is a story comprised of exactly 100 words.
