COLLECTED DRABBLES

2010 – 2026

by Carole W

2010

Written for the drabble project The Pause, originally published on the fan site Everything in 2010. The prompt: to fill the long silent moment in Vincent’s reply to Devin in Promises of Someday: “Catherine is … … … … more than a Helper.”.

Remember The Moment …

“Twenty years is a long time.”

Outside the secret door, Devin folds his old clasp knife. “I wasn’t even sure anybody’d be … home. I’ll tell you, there were some dark nights when I thought I imagined the whole thing. The tunnels, the Old Man. You. Especially you.” He spreads his arms. “What are you doing here anyway?  It’s like you knew I was gonna be here.”

“Catherine saw you last night at the carousel and … followed you here.”

“Catherine? You mean Chandler? From the DA’s office?”

And Vincent only nods.

“Small world,” Devin says with a sigh. “So you have a Helper in the DA’s office.”

Vincent takes a breath; his expression just changes. “Catherine is … … … more than a Helper.”

The smallest smile plays on Devin’s lips. His brows raise. “Things change, I guess.”

100 words to fill that particular silence 

“Catherine is …”

And the words were swept away, the flood of years between them, its waters threaded currents of mirth, of melancholy.

You left – before our urgencies outgrew the imagined raft, the midnight adventure, the measure of the frog’s leap; while still we journeyed on boyish knees and bare hands, in adventure oblivious to the scrape of stone; before first your eye, then your heart might fix, before first love stopped your breath; before leaving in a different way, wrongly guilty that you did and I might never know. 

But, Devin, I do know. She … is.

“… more than a helper.”

* * * * * * *

2012

Written first for the 100-word challenge at Batbland – Of Love and Gratitude, 2012. The exercise was to begin with the words “Thank you (Vincent or Catherine)” and end with the word “Love”.

Thank you, Vincent.

Perched on the edge of the wooden dock, she swung her booted feet back and forth well above the still-cold water. Beside her, he sat with one knee drawn up. Birds swooped black against the lavender and gray-rose sky. Beyond the trees, the sun crouched, ruddy with satisfaction. The first breeze of evening excited the mirror surface of the lake.

“For?”

“For waking me.”

He might have said, “We’ve been up for hours.” He might have said, “But, Catherine, you kissed me awake this morning. But he didn’t. He simply looked at her … with love.

* * * * * * *

2021

WFOL 2021 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Edie, a manilla envelope, Catherine’s apartment

Catherine handed her guest a beer. Too late, she saw the manilla envelope stuffed behind the sofa pillow Edie fussed with.

She should’ve shown her to another seat. She’d been sitting right there when the doorbell rang, Vincent’s chin resting on her shoulder. Now …

Edie pulled the envelope free. Of course, it was upside down. Of course, Kristopher’s new drawing slipped out.

“Look at you!” Edie crowed. “And, oh baby, look at him!”

Vincent’s muffled laugh was undeniable. And so he stepped from the bedroom into the light, into the silence …

Edie gulped. “Do you … do you have a brother?”

_______

Devin, Father’s Fedora, the Crystal Cavern

“Believing Narcissa’s tales will lead you into dangerous territory.”

He picked up his pen, applied it where he’d left off. The subject was closed.

Wasn’t it?

“Mind me, now. There’s no crystal cavern. Even if there were, it would be far, far from here. You could get hurt, lost–”

“Or worse,” Devin finished. “O–kay.”

“Off you go. You may believe the rumors of chocolate cake.”

Alone, he opened his armoire, reached deep to the corner of the shelf. Lifted the brim of his old fedora. Still there: the crystal he’d chosen from the glittering cave, lit with hope … for Margaret.

_______

Kristopher, Vincent’s toy carousel, the ice skating rink in Central Park

“What’s in the trunk?” He eased back the domed lid.

A toy carousel, the ice skates worn once one moonless midnight in Central Park, a tin bank still rattling with coins. He pulled the memories from the the chest, arranging them in a collage beside it. Now and then, he’d consider the design. A shift of angle, a quarter-turn. Whatever it took to please his artist’s eye …

Next out, a stack of slim books. He shuffled them like cards.

“Hey, look! Harold and the Purple Crayon. That’s what got me started.”

“Started … what, Kristopher?”

“You know … coloring outside the lines.”

_______

Vincent, the scent of warm chocolate, the Whispering Bridge

“Is he sleepwalking?”

“I think he’s sleep listening.”

“We can’t wake him up. It’s too dangerous.”

Devin stood awfully close to the one rickety board on the Whispering Bridge, his glazed gaze on something far away.

“I’ll get him,” Vincent said. “I’m the littlest. I won’t cause much sway.”

“Well, technically …” Pascal began.

Vincent took a step and steadied. Took another. And another.

Closer, closer …

His voice as wispy, he hoped, as the voices heard in this place, Vincent called his brother’s name.

“Smell that, little brother?”

Surprised, Vincent had to grab the rope rail.

“Warm chocolate. Mary’s making brownies.”

_______

Vincent, a Face Mask, Above

“You’re allowed the hour of dusk Above,” Father said. “A helper will go with you.”

They had their candy bags, brown paper ones they’d smoothed out. For costumes … with a little soot on their faces they could go in their normal clothes, be The Lost Boys, like in Peter Pan.

Vincent though …

His friends called from the corridor. “Come on, Devin! If we don’t hurry, Father won’t let us go!”

And there he was, pushing through the crowd wearing a plastic Cowardly Lion face mask. Grinning behind it, he could tell.

One ear was broken, but it would do.

_______

Narcissa, a Candle, the Great Hall

“Narcissa’s here!”

The news whispered through the Great Hall. No one expected her.

Jacob frowned. His job was to parcel out the mead. Hard to pour and keep his eye on the woman.

What’s she doing, crouching down in front of Vincent. She has him by the shoulders, filling his head, no doubt.

What’s that in her hand? A blob of white wax. Vincent has it now! They’re leaving!

“Devin! Where?” He called him over, pointed with his chin.

“Dunno. Vincent’s mother’s got something to tell him. The candle’s magic.” Devin kicked the table leg. “I want to go too.”

* * * * * * *

2022

WFOL 2022 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Catherine, Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, a Fountain Pen

A suddenly-warm late-winter day. Catherine lingered in the park, gathering in the blue, blue sky, the sweep of clouds, the joy of birds flying free in the more hospitable air. Could she remember it all?

Vincent avowed she brought the sun below, the scent of all seasons. But did she?

If only she could memorialize …

And there, on the concrete rim of Bethesda Fountain, a fountain pen. Vintage, a barrel of azure, white and gold – the colors of all above. The Angel of the Waters seemed to smile in bronzed gift as if sure the right words would come to her.

_______

Vincent, a Balloon, the Mirror Pool

His meditation was interrupted by a brush across his cheek.

Eyes closed, he fanned it away.

Not a bug. Not a bat.

His reverie was broken by an image of Father wrestling through a rush of Chiroptera (a storm-cloud of winged assassins, so he’d claimed).

Vincent laughed, not even softly.

Another brush. He opened his eyes. A purple balloon bobbed overhead, its tailing ribbon corkscrew-curled.

A marvel finding an opening, another journeying through twisting chimneys and rocky points, intact in defiance of probability.

He drew it down. Usually things drifted up from the Mirror pool. Not today.

Anything was possible.

_______

Jamie, a Ticket, the Brooklyn Bridge

Jamie parked her new bicycle at the corner of Front and Dover, hitching the shining chain around the lamp post. The Brooklyn Bridge almost overhead, the ground rattled. Up top was almost too much, but Isaac said meet here, and she was right on time. Even a little early.

“You like your ride?”

She looked up to see her trainer on the fire escape, one floor up. “I sure do. Thanks again.”

“Once is plenty. Get on up here, let’s do the work.”

Two hours later she emerged on the street, sweaty but energized.

“What the heck? A parking ticket?!”

_______

Samantha, a Homework Assignment, the Whispering Gallery

“Samantha! C’mon. Lunch hour’s almost over.”

“Hush, Geoffrey. I’m doing the homework assignment. Pipe down, will ya?”

“It’s not due til Friday. I don’t even get it. This new music teacher has some funny ideas.” He kicked a post on the Whispering Gallery bridge, which made Samantha huff and scoot farther away from the dust he stirred up. Kinda the opposite of what he really wanted to happen.

“The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind,” he muttered. “We’re supposed to ‘interpret’ that? Geez.”

Samantha pointed. “Either out.” She pointed again. “Or beside me. You pick.”

He sat down.

_______

Mouse, Raspberry Jam, the Great Falls

The boy didn’t have the words for this sensation. He knew to hide the shining thing he’d found, scuttle away, find a place where he could see out, but not be seen. Where he could have it in peace, get it all into his mouth fast before … before the growlers came, the snatchers.

Here was good. Big place, lots of shadows. Crouching spots. Lots of water falling down, big roar. Water to drink too, trickle trickle trickle.

He attacked the lid. Stuck. He could fix. His pockets held his treasures.

He sighed at the taste, felt his face stretch wide.

_______

William, a Book of Poetry, the Mirror Pool

Funny nobody ever thinks to come looking for him. Breakfast over, lunch … folks are satisfied, he guesses. Plenty in the pantry for latecomers. Two o’clock every day, he just … slips away.

The Mirror Pool. He settles down to a chiseled bench, opens his satchel. Pulls out his manuscript. Looks over the pages he’s already written.

He chuckles. Folks would think he’s writing recipes. And he is, but more than that. Memories of tastes and moments. Who first made him blueberry pancakes, how a bowl of blueberries now brings back *that* kitchen, *that* voice.

For every recipe, he writes a poem.

_______

Father, a Candy Bar, Catherine’s Apartment

Vincent strode through the open balcony doors of Catherine’s apartment. Her smile was beacon enough, but she held something in her hands.

“You found one! And with a photograph of an English garden on it,” he said, not completely surprised. “Where?”

“At the flea market on West 77th.  I kicked over a stack of metal pans and there it was on the shelf behind them.”

“And inside?”

“Not 1940s chocolates, obviously, but what Cadbury’s calls a Milk Tray now.”

“A rare treat, he said. His favorite, back then.”

“I hope still his favorite.”

The doorbell buzzed.

“Father’s here!” Vincent whispered.

_______

Rebecca, a Letter, Central Park

Rebecca touched the letter in her pocket. Sebastien had brought it down, the only person who knew everything. She couldn’t open it Below. It seemed a Pandora’s Box, like she’d been studying in class before she had to leave. She didn’t want to unleash anything ugly.

She headed into the Central Park Ramble. Vincent and Devin went to Turtle Rock at night, but she’d need the light of day to read whatever was inside the envelope. The path was deserted, all the benches empty. She slit the flap with the little knife she carried now.

A newspaper cutting drifted out.

* * * * * * *

2023

WFOL 2023 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Mouse, a Box of Crayons, Father’s Study/Library

“Why did he unwrap every single crayon, Vincent? Now I don’t know what to call the colors,” young Jamie grumped. “And I loved the names.”

“I’m not sure. Have you asked him?”

Jamie glared and tapped her foot and sat down hard in a chair pulled up to the library table in Father’s study. A colorful pile of paper shreds shifted in the breeze of her disgruntlement.

“It was a 64-crayon box too, with copper and silver! And a sharpener!”

“Better names now.” Mouse piped up without raising his head. He tapped his temple and kept on with his work.

_______

Zach, a Halloween Costume, a Classroom Chamber

“I’m not gonna wear that. It’s dumb.”

“Come on, Zach,” Eric pestered. “We’re all picking one.”

The boxes of old Halloween costumes Mouse had found were open and their contents arrayed on the science classroom’s tall experiment tables. Donald Duck, Huckleberry Hound. Vinyl suits that tied in the back and plastic masks with eye holes so small you could barely see.

He watched her from across the room. She was holding a Wonder Woman mask. Nooooo, he almost shouted.

A mask would ruin everything! He wouldn’t wear it, not when he planned, no, hoped to kiss …

_______

Joe, a Wrapped Sandwich, Catherine’s Desk

Where was she? They needed to talk.

He’d seen her in the break room earlier pouring a cup of coffee, but now? He’d popped out of his office a dozen times in the last hour to check, yet her chair was still empty.

He’d just wait for her then, Joe decided, and sat down.

Her desk was cluttered with papers and files and a sandwich half-unwrapped. He couldn’t help himself; he was hungry. He’d buy her another.

What’s this? A note?!

He unfolded it … and shot up out of her chair for the elevator. He knew where she was.

_______

CABB’S SEPTEMBER 25th, 2023 DRABBLE CHALLENGE 

William, a Subway Car, a Hot Dog Stand

By Cold and Hunger Led

William waited his turn at the corner newsstand, settling the wrapped bundle of borrowed magazines on the counter. “Thanks for these. See you got a new neighbor. Busy!”

“Guy’s a tightwad,” Willis growled. “No more’n four mustard squiggles on a Nathan’s dog?!”

William harrumphed.

A boy in ratty sneakers edged up to the vendor’s cart. “How much?”

“Same as yesterday, the day before that. Scram, kid.”

William hustled after the boy, down the subway station steps and into the last car. He slid a bill out of his money clip.

“Hungry?”

He knew the answer. For more than just food.

_______

 
Catherine, Sheet Music, the Dining Chamber

The Subtle Electric Fire

She sensed his presence long before he touched her shoulder.

“Found you,” Vincent murmured against her temple.

The lingering of his last word stirred … remembrance.

She covered his hand with hers.

“And what is all this?” he asked.

A battered leather steamer trunk lay open on the dining chamber table, vintage musical scores papering the slab top.

“Mouse found a stack of old suitcases. We’re going through –”

He bent again to her ear, whispering.

She rose from the bench.

“Sheet music,” she echoed. “Is that anything like pillow talk?”

His riveted gaze was beguiling.

“That will come, Catherine … but after.”

* * * * * * *

2024

WFOL 2024 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Vincent, Central Park, a Snowstorm

“Have you ever seen snow this deep, the park so perfect?”

They stood together, unsheltered, the flurried world before them ice blue, the shadows indigo. A night breath stirred the sparklings.

The measure of time suspended.

Did she shiver? “Are you cold, Catherine?”

“No. Shhh,” she said. “Listen.”

The city beneath its blanket of white surprise had stilled. Noiseless, tranquil, a peaceable kingdom.

Theirs, this night.

“The only other sound’s the sweep of easy wind,” she began.

“And downy flake.” One that lingered in her hair.

He wouldn’t warm it away, its crystal points as magic and singular as she.

_______

Father, the Kitchen Chamber, a Complaint

The bottom drawer was stuck. Father pulled and the handle broke loose. He glared at the dull metal in his hand.

The drawer wouldn’t give, but it wasn’t his only stash. He grumbled over to his private bookcase, its shelves stacked with tomes not for lending. One specifically. Leather-bound, its pages precisely knifed away. Inside, a hollow to cushion exactly eight shortbread fingers.

Empty.

A single treat. That’s all he wanted.

He shuffled to the kitchen, every breath a complaint. There’d better be cookies left from supper. Oatmeal, he recalled, not his favorite.

But what’s a desperate man to do?

_______

Joe, Catherine’s Apartment, a Gift

Where was it?

She’d wrapped it, pulled the scissors along the crinkly ribbon strands to create a curly explosion. It wasn’t a small box; it should be noticeable even if her apartment was a mess.

The dinky couches were going away. A larger sofa coming in their place, one side a long, extra cozy chaise. ‘No excuses, Vincent,’ she imagined saying.

She resumed her search. There it was, under the table by the door. None too soon. Joe would be arriving to help any minute.

A KNOCK!

“Happy birthday, Joe!”

“What’s that, Radcliffe? A basketball?”

How did he know?

_______

Rebecca, the Staten Island Ferry, a Winterfest Candle

Rebecca only took the Staten Island ferry once a year.

A short walk then to Fort Hill Park, to the stone bench in a nestle of ivy-bound trees where she would linger. The house nearby might have been hers now. Possibly was. She’d never know.

Windy, cold, growing colder.

Better go.

She trailed her hand along the bluestone-capped wall to the block loose in its mortar. She’d replace the Winterfest candle there with a new one, bright with color.

But this time, the candle was missing; in its place a ring, loose in a small jar.

The ring she remembered.

_______

Kipper, the Museum of Natural History, a Pair of Ice Skates

His own chamber.

“You’re old enough,” Father said.

Now Kipper looked around at his new digs.

“Kipper?”

Vincent was dripping mud.

“What happened?”

“Long story. Would you take a message to Catherine? Tell her … not tonight.”

He emerged at the Winterdale Arch so he could run past the Museum of Natural History on his way to Catherine’s. Sometimes people left neat stuff on the steps. They were bare though. Not even a paperback book left behind.

Wait! What was that? Draped over a trash bin, glinting in the cold. Ice skates, a pair.

Those pompoms would have to go though.

_______

Pascal, the Underground River, A Bright Light

He was two levels down when he heard it, the tapping. Faint, rhythmic. Not a code he knew.

He didn’t tell his friends. He didn’t leave a note for his dad. He just … went.

The tapping started, stopped, started again. He knew the pipe now, followed it deeper than he’d ever gone before.

Water. A wide, black river.

Now he followed it and the pinging pipe.

Was that torchlight? A bright beacon.

He rounded a bend.

Vincent. Alone. Circles drawn on the pipe like targets. A handful of pebbles that he tossed one after another. A bull’s eye every time.

_______

Jamie, Father’s Library, a Flower

Jamie found another one, outside her chamber door. A single stem in an old green pop bottle.

Yesterday, a pink carnation.

The day before a dandelion.

The day before that, a trailing spring of ivy.

Today she didn’t recognize the fuschia-colored blossom.

She carried it to Father’s library. He’d have a book that could tell her exactly what the mystery flower was.

She recalled a class discussion of the language of flowers. Was this delivery some kind of message?

Mouse popped up from behind Father’s desk.

“Bringing Father flowers? Pretty!”

She always could read his face. He wasn’t her admirer.

_______

Catherine, Father’s Library, a List

The letter she’d found in the poetry book haunted her. From Grace to her unborn son. The hint of others, written, stashed away somewhere for years.

Devin deserved …

She rose on one elbow. Stared. Stared hard. How could he sleep knowing …

He opened one eye. “Catherine?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Her tone demanded only one answer.

“There’s a list” he began, glancing at the paper weighted on his writing desk.

She fought the covers and won, barefooting across the floor, crumpling the list to a throw-away ball.

“Change of plans. You. Me. Father’s Library. And no book left unsearched.”

____

Author’s Note: Incorporated into The Arc of Grace, published on Imagine That.

________

CABB’S APRIL 12th, 2024 DRABBLE CHALLENGE

Two 100-word stories suggesting an Alternative Second Anniversary (instead of The Watcher)

Vincent, Dr. Wong’s Shop, an Anniversary Gift

Love Is Sufficient Unto Love

His gift …

Inadequate

Not the treasure he’d discovered, polished, readied, but … him.

Can we … truly … be together? Am I … are we … brave enough?

“Our anniversary,” he whispered. “A tea perhaps … for courage?”

“Ahhhh …” Dr. Wong studied him with one eye closed … (or did he wink?) … and left him standing.

Vincent paced the secret cellar, anxiety swirling, darkening, clouding his senses. Go? Stay?

Then … Voices.

His ear to the door to the apothecary, heart quickening.

Lin …suggesting a balm – Madengcao, Sichangpu, Yuanzhi – to encourage romance.

Dr. Wong’s rumble. “What you need is in the storeroom. Come …”

Footsteps …

The door opened.

Catherine!

________

Any Character, any Location Above or Below, an Anniversary Gift

More Than Once Upon A Time

Two years ago … tonight. Two years since he’d first braved her balcony after her attack.

She’d whispered invitation, yet he’d hesitated … again … to cross her threshold.

To take her in his arms in the way of dreams.

Instead …

At one end of the Whisper Bench, head in hands …

If only I could start over …

“Happy anniversary … of sorts,” came a voice from a shadow. “Or … not so happy.”

“How did you– Who–”

“Kristopher sent me. With a gift.”

An object … mysteriously within reach.

“A clock?”

“Already set.”

“For …”

“For today again. Read the note.”

It’s magic. Don’t blow it.
       ~Kristopher

* * * * * * *

2025

WFOL 2025 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Devin, Vincent’s Chamber, a Coin

“You tell him!”

“No, you tell him!”

“Come on. I tell him and I’m grounded.”

Vincent laughed.

Devin glared. “What?”

“Grounded,” he chuckled out, sweeping an indicating hand around the stone-walled chamber.

Devin crossed his arms, sending a sour glance his way, one he couldn’t hold for long.

“Well,” Devin heaved. “He needs telling.”

Vincent trotted to the fish bowl on his desk, stirred the pebbles camouflaging their meager stash, brought up a quarter.

“I’ll flip, you call. Loser tells.”

The silver flashed in the candlelight.

“Heads!”

Devin caught the coin, slapped it down.

Both heads bent to the result.

_______

Vincent, the Great Falls, a Broken Lock

He wrangled with the old lock he’d found. Heart-shaped … looking at it with a poetic eye. A key threaded on a leather lacing that fit and turned with no freeing result.

Definitely broken. He thought about flinging it into the water beneath the Great Falls.

But didn’t.

Catherine settled beside him.

“Let me try.”

She rubbed the key with sand.

The shackle responded.

“In Paris there’s a bridge. Lovers close a lock on the rail and throw the key in the Seine.”

“There’s an iron gate just beyond that rock outcrop.”

She rose and held out her hand. “Shall we?”

_______

Joe, His Office, a Phone Message

Where was he?

Catherine paced Joe’s office, pausing only to cross and uncross her arms, to tap one foot. Minutes passed, each of the essence. They’d had a plan. This wasn’t it.

She closed the blinds, locked the door, prowled for clues.

His desk a mess, more so than usual. A bag of chocolate cheese nuggets open but nearly full, only a few spilling out over the blotter.

What’s this??

While You Were Out. A pink rectangle of paper, chocolate-crumbed, the secretary’s handwriting. A phone message.

No name given
2:00. The culvert in the park.
Step inside. I’ll be there.

_______

William, Winterfest, a Hat 

Where Nothing Unravels

William grumbled. Oh, he had a team of young folks clearing away the leftover Winterfest food. There was enough extra for days, but it had to be stored … properly.

“Making a final check.” he announced, pre-disappointment tinging his words.

The newest of the crew held a breath.

He dusted his hands, all business.

But it was the quiet he sought. The memories stored in the Great Hall.

“What’s this?”

On an empty table, a familiar brimmed and feathered hat. Winslow’s!

The tapestries rippled. A laugh shimmered with light.

“Pretty good feed bag you put out this year,” Winslow surely said.

_____

Note: This drabble is now part of The Arc of Winslow, published on Imagine That.

_______

Cullen, His Workshop, a Cupcake

The memory came in a dream. His grandma’s long table, on it a deep bowl carved from cherrywood, a rim so thin he could almost see through it to the magical forest from which he believed it came.

A great-uncle he’d never known had carved its perpetual bounty. Apples from walnut, bananas of spalted maple, pale pecan pears.

He woke up needing to … hold those things again and set to work.

“What’cha making?” little Samantha asked having wandered in.

“Forever fruit,” he replied, taking a moment to smile down at her.

“Can you make me a cupcake?”

And he did.

_______

Laura, Her Apartment, a Journal

It was neither fair nor brave.

But telling seemed impossible and she couldn’t just show him.

He would be home soon.

A baby.

A baby she wouldn’t rear not knowing about Below. About Vincent.

Jerry had to know first.

In the six weeks he’d been at training, she’d written it all down in a journal. From her first memories of being found, growing up, learning to speak. Vincent … her teacher.

She couldn’t watch him read it. What if …

She left it in their apartment with a note of love and to meet her in the park at the doorway home.

_______

Jamie, the Children’s Chamber, a Piece of Jewelry

Hidden, My Heart Within That Close Disguise

“Jamie! C’mere, will ya?”

At the sound of her name, she skidded to a stop just past the children’s chamber … sauntered back through the archway.

“You called?”

“Yeah! Look what we found!”

She took the box Eric held out. The blue velvet covering – matted and stained – had surely once been plush. The hinged lid was balky and inside–

Jamie eyes widened … then narrowed.

“Have you been hanging out with Mouse?”

No, just Kipper ‘n me. We found it in an empty chamber.”

The wide, gold bangle untarnished, engraved. *For Grace, on your 18th*

“We better show Father,” Jamie said.

_____

Note: This story is now part of The Arc of Grace published on Imagine That

_______

Mary, the Chamber of the Winds, a Map

She’d heard about this place, the Chamber of the Winds, though she couldn’t imagine it.

But now here she was

In the center of the soaring space, stories high, a spiral of archways filled with light above her …

It was dizzying, the choices of ways.

Buffeted by the unusual wind, she scuffed and faltered along, her shuffles revealing a mosaic laid in the floor.

A compass, its pointing arrow confident.

Her few steps hesitant … a sudden singing wind encircled her, whisking Sarah’s map from her hand.

Would she find her way home?

* * * * * * *

2025

WFOL 2025 ~ Drabble of the Day Challenges

Vincent, Catherine’s Apartment, a Colander

“Vincent! You’re early!” Catherine ushered him in through her dining room doors. “You need a costume! Quick!!”

“It’s Halloween! On this night, surely I–”

“Well, yes, later. The party’s about to start! They’ll be knocking at my door any minute!

“They?”

“The kids in the building! Who I invited during a particular hour so I wouldn’t miss them. The hour about to strike!”

“Might I go as myself? As your Helper?”

She vanished, returning with a colander which she plopped on his head like a helmet.

And kissed him, deeply, whispering, “Oh, you’re more than a Helper.”

The doorbell rang.

_______

Laura, the Great Falls, a Bracelet

It was the only thing she had to mark that day.

Her Lostness.

She remembered the creeping cold, the quiet as the park’s crowds thinned.

“Stay right here,” the man had commanded.

She’d obeyed, knowing better than to not.

He hadn’t returned. And that was okay.

And it was not okay.

She drew the bracelet from her pocket. Not a memento. Not a keepsake.

But a reminder.

The threads that bound the dulled beads together were fraying. She tugged to free one, another, then another, dropping each into the swirling froth beneath the Great Falls.

Found now, she could forget.

_______

Catherine, Narcissa’s Chamber, a Letter

Benny sailed toward her, steering with one hand, reaching inside his messenger bag with the other. He skidded to a stop at the curb, flourished a folded message.

From Vincent? The paper felt unfamiliar in her hand, its fibers raised, its brownish nap velvety.

The words were few on the page – spiky, large-lettered, in an angled crawl across the paper.

Come tonight. Come alone.
~ Narcissa

Alone? To her chamber? Catherine had ventured that deeply only once before and not by choice.

She brushed the sand from the waymarker, Vincent’s directions whispering in her thoughts.

I’m not afraid, she realized.

_______

Father, the Dining Hall, a Large Crystal 

Father sat at his special place at the head table of the dining chamber. He inspected the place setting laid out before him, nudged the hammer on the right of his plate up a quarter inch, even with the chisel on the left.

His birthday supper would be served soon.

He settled against the plush velvet of the high-backed chair, rubbed his hands over the carved arms in hungry anticipation.

At last William arrived with a gold tray, upon it standing his favorite dish – a large, clear, many-pointed crystal.

He grabbed the hammer, the chisel …

“Father?! Father!! Wake up!!!”

_______

Jamie, the Abyss, a Scarf

What a day, Jamie grumbled as she scuffed along. Same-old, Same-old. Hurry to work, chip rock, tote rubble. Trudge back, dig through the leftovers, fall into bed.

Is that any way to live? I want something amazing to happen!

Mouse was pacing around outside her chamber.

“No,” she said before he could take a breath. I don’t want to play checkers.

He stopped mid-pace.

“You say that every night, Mouse.”

“Not tonight, better come.”

She followed him to the abyss where dozens of scarves of every color were floating and swirling in the vortex.

She stood on the bridge, amazed.

_______

Devin, Central Park, a Feather

Hand in hand they walked through Central Park, scuffing through deepening snow. Near the tunnel entrance, he slowed their steps.

A quickening wind swirled them in an icy crystal fog and when the squall stilled, a cardinal’s feather lay at their feet, brilliant against the white blanketing.

She bent for it, held it up into what passed for light from a low winter sun behind a laden cloud.

“In the old stories, finding a red feather signifies passion, discovered courage,” Brigit said. “Spiritual protection and comfort, too.

Devin chuckled. “We’ll need all of that, introducing “us” to the old man.”

_______

Mouse, the Main Branch of the New York Public Library, a Deck of Cards

Ace of Hearts, ten of diamonds, three of clubs. One by one, he pocketed the cards he found.

“Fifty-two pick up? Neat! Better than neat.”

A trail of them led him on through a junction, down a corridor, even up a ladder, the cards stuck in the joints between the rungs and the uprights.

“I find. Who left? Where going?”

Cards 50, 51 went into his pocket.

Card 52 was stuck in the latch of an old metal door. Which opened.

Inside.
Books.
Construction! Contraptions!
Papers sticking out.
Culled? Means what?
NYC Public Library.
Huh. Extras?
Dusty,
Free stuff, right?

* * * * * * *

That’s all … for now!