COLLECTED DRABBLES

2021 – 2026

by Linda S Barth

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2021

Joe, Catherine’s umbrella, Central Park chess table  

Joe wiped his forehead, breathing heavily in the hot, sticky air. “Whose idea was it to have the Central Park Amateur Chess Tournament in the middle of July? It’s gotta be 100 degrees!”

Catherine made her next move. “Oh, stop complaining. Remember, you were the high bidder at that I Love NYC charity auction.”

“Yeah, well, I should have gone for the Billy Joel concert tickets instead!”

She reached for her pink ruffly umbrella. “Here – use this as a parasol.”

“Very funny, Radcliffe.” He glowered at her. “I’d rather sweat.”

“Suit yourself.” She smiled serenely. “And, by the way, checkmate.”

Narcissa, candle, Great Hall

The husky warmth of his voice drew her from the cowrie shells and feathers scattered across her ancient, battered worktable.

She chuckled, gazing at him with cloud-shadowed eyes that saw beyond all boundaries. “What need have I for a candle?”

“It’s for Winterfest, Narcissa. We miss you. We all hope you will return to the celebration this year and light your candle with your family.”

His words kindled light in her soul. She took the candle from his outstretched hand and held it to her heart, feeling its radiant color and warmth.

“For you, child, I will always be there.”

Drabble Challenges – Virtual Con – July 2021

Prompt #1: There’s a strange noise in Father’s chamber.

What Was That?!

Dear God, not again! That infernal snapping sound, leaping impossibly through the chamber. Dripping water? Sparking electrical wires? Insects?

Father’s head swiveled until his eyes focused on a pile of maps. “I’ve got you this time!” A single swipe and maps were swept to the floor to rest in innocent silence.

Emitting a strangled moan, he collapsed onto a chair, clenching his fists, refusing to accept inevitable defeat.

Up in the library alcove, two boys stifled their laughter into whispers.

“Devin, will you show me how to do that?”

“Sorry, little brother. Sebastien says a magician never reveals his secrets.”

Prompt #4: Pascal has a secret ambition he’s never confessed to anyone.

“That Merry Wanderer of the Night”

Vincent collapsed onto cushions in a secret chamber they’d recently discovered under the Delacorte Theater.

“Don’t worry, it hasn’t started yet.” Catherine nestled against him, ready to enjoy tonight’s Shakespeare in the Park production.

“I was waiting for Pascal. He said he needed to speak with me, but he never showed up. He skipped dinner tonight again, too.”

“That’s not like him – oh, listen!”

They drifted in shared pleasure…until Act 2, Scene 1. Puck’s entrance.

“How now, spirit! Whither wander you?”

They stared at each other in wide-eyed shock.

“That sounds just like –”

“But it can’t be – can it?”

Prompt #5: Samantha and Zack got in trouble for a practical joke.

Ignominious Inspiration

“This is your fault, Zack!”

“No way! You talked me into that stupid plan!”

“You agreed to it!”

“Children!” Father scowled. “There will be no further discussion of your irresponsible act. Your punishment has begun. While you’re cleaning everything from tonight’s banquet, I suggest you determine how you will improve your behavior in future.”

The two nodded and trudged into the kitchen.

“It’s still your fault for agreeing with me,” Samantha muttered.

They froze and stared – Vincent, rolled-up sleeves, arms elbow-deep in soapy water.

“Actually, it’s my fault for telling you about my exploits with Devin in the first place.”

Prompt #10: Catherine just discovered Joe’s guilty pleasure.

Joe’s Guilty Pleasure

Catherine yawned. “Any plans for the weekend, Joe? I just want to sleep until noon.”

“Probably grab a few beers with the guys, play some ball with my nephews.”

The elevator door pinged open. As he reached to press the lobby button, a card fell from his jacket pocket. He lunged, but she beat him to it.

He felt his face redden as she smirked at him. “Keeping secrets, Joe?”

He swiped the ticket from her and shoved it back into his pocket, silently adding another item to his agenda. Pick up Klingon costume before the con starts tomorrow night.

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2022

Catherine, a fountain pen, Bethesda Fountain

Catherine browsed through the Central Park Conservancy gift shop, hoping to find a little surprise for Vincent while supporting the group’s valuable work. But what could he possibly need? Not a t-shirt or a magnet or another mug. Certainly not a guidebook — he could write one of his own!

Perfect! A silver fountain pen with an engraved image of Bethesda Fountain. He would love it, and she was certain of the beautiful memory that would inspire his next journal entry.

A moonlit midnight, a waltz to silent music, the Angel of the Waters guarding their special bit of heaven.

Vincent, balloon(s), Mirror Pool

Ever since Catherine mentioned she’d loved balloons at her childhood birthday parties, Vincent was determined to revive that memory and let it become one they now could share.

He was grateful for Mouse’s donation to his preparations, although he’d rather not know how that had come about. Nearly breathless, he tied off the end of a final balloon and secured its ribbon with another small rock. A rainbow of twirling orbs ringed the Mirror Pool, their reflected images dancing and swirling on the water.

Soft footfalls. A gasp of delight.

He turned and held out his arms.

“Happy birthday, Catherine!”

Paracelsus, Alka Seltzer, Joe’s office

Joe’s office door clicked shut behind an eerily eccentric visitor, tall, gaunt, dressed all in black.

“Geez, Cathy sure knows some weirdos.” He flicked a rubber band between his fingers. “No way was I answering any of that creep’s questions.”

His phone buzzed. Edie sounded more stressed than usual. “Joe, did you tell some crazy-looking guy to come talk to me about Cathy?”

“Hell, no! Keep him there. I’m on my way!”

He paused only long enough to chug yet another glass of Alka Seltzer fizzed water.

No doubt about it. This job was a fast track to ulcer town.

Jamie, a ticket, Brooklyn Bridge

“For me?” Jamie stared at the ticket Catherine placed in her hand.

Catherine smiled and held up a matching ticket. “For us. There’s an exhibit on The Hero’s Journey at a new event space on Plymouth Street, just over the Brooklyn Bridge. I thought we might go see it together.”

Jamie smiled shyly and nodded her head. “I’d like that. I’ve read the book and I’ve always wondered about something.”

Catherine nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“Do you think someone will ever write about The Heroine’s Journey, too?”

“I feel certain someone will,” Catherine answered. “Maybe it will be you.”

Samantha, homework assignment, Whispering Gallery

He’d told her she needed to work on dialogue, find inspiration, make the voices real. Embarrassed but eager to please her favorite teacher, Samantha raced to the Whispering Gallery.

So many sounds — a phrase, a cry, a shout. Voices tormented with fear, joyous in song, giddy in laughter.

Frantically she recorded them in her notebook. But how could she choose? They all were real, all were part of someone’s life, someone’s story.

But not part of hers.

She knew what she must do. She would learn to trust the voices she heard in her writer’s soul.

Vincent would understand.

Mouse, raspberry jam, the Great Falls

“Come on, Jamie, hurry up!”

She panted to a stop next to Mouse. “We’ve seen the Great Falls a million times,” she grumbled. “Why did we have to run here at top speed?”

He grinned. “Got an idea. Didn’t want anyone else to think of it first!”

He quickly pulled items from his backpack — a loaf of William’s freshly baked bread, a jar of raspberry jam from the batch the children helped make, napkins, and a knife.

He pushed gently on Jamie’s shoulders. “Sit down!”

She smiled. “A picnic! What a great idea!”

He smiled back. “Just for us.”

William, book of poetry, Mirror Pool

He knew no one would think to look for him here. Why would he, the overworked cook, gruff and blustering, always in the thick of things, be found seeking solace in the lost star depths of the Mirror Pool?

He pulled the small book from his jacket pocket, careful with its worn and sagging cover. With large, gentle hands, he turned the pages one by one, reading the words, hearing her voice. She’d always brought the poetry to life like no other ever could.

Just as she’d enchanted and sustained his soul.

Gone twenty years today. Forever in his heart.

Father, a candy bar, Catherine’s apartment

Father stared at the Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut Bar Catherine had placed in his hand. “For me?”

She smiled. “Of course, for you! I remember how you mentioned it was one of your favorite childhood treats.”

For once, he did not know what to say. It had been shocking enough to be invited to come to her apartment on his own, and now this. With a guilty twinge, he couldn’t help wondering if it was all a ploy of some sort. What could she possibly want from him?

The candy wrapper crinkled in his grasp. He’d find out soon enough.

Rebecca, a letter, Central Park

Rebecca rarely went Above. There was no need, no desire to leave her candlelit sanctuary. But he trusted her, and when he’d asked, she could not refuse.

She hurried through the park and found a mailbox on West 79th Street. She thrust the letter into its metal mouth and forced herself to walk away at a typically brisk city pace so as not to attract attention.

Her heartbeat slowed as she reached the hidden tunnel entrance. Mission accomplished. She could go home. Yet she hesitated at the brink, gazing at the sunlit vista, suddenly wondering where other paths might lead.

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2023

Brigit, a piece of jewelry, a bookshop in Manhattan

“Your ring,” the young woman gestures toward the wrinkled hand of the woman seated behind a white-clothed table in an uptown bookshop. “It’s lovely. Is it an antique?”

Brigit sets aside the fountain pen she’s been using to autograph her latest book, another collection of love stories inspired by fables and fairytales. With one trembling finger, she caresses the still smooth surface of Connemara marble set in timeworn silver. The stone of strength and second sight.

She sighs. She has seen too much. She has not seen enough.

She looks up at the young woman. “No, it is my destiny.” 

Mary, a tote bag, the threshold of Catherine’s apartment building

Catherine lifts the tote bag, but Mary shakes her head. “I appreciate the invitation, dear, but just don’t know – after all these years – I can’t –”

Catherine drops the bag and pulls her into a warm hug. “Please don’t be upset. We can do this another time.”

With a sudden surge of strength, Mary pulls away. “No, we can’t. It’s not every day a woman needs to get ready for her wedding.” She puts a foot on the first rung and, without looking back, starts climbing.

In the flickering light, the diamond in her ring seems to wink at her.

Jamie, an old photograph, Winterfest

Jamie peels back tape sealing a battered cardboard box, sneezing as dust shimmers in the air. An eager rifling through the contents – old comic books, a torn t-shirt, binoculars with one cracked lens, tattered maps of the world, a rusty pocketknife.

Her sigh drifts through the storage chamber. Still nothing to create a Winterfest gift for Vincent.

She shoves the box hard, intending to send it back to w here some unknown hand had once abandoned it. Its long-forgotten secrets shift and slide. 

She grabs the tattered, forbidden Polaroid print of two grinning little boys. She has found the gift.

Vincent, a box of tissues, Father’s library

Father scowls across his desk. “I suppose this is all your doing!”

“Perhaps,” Vincent can’t suppress a grin, “but only indirectly. The real culprit is you.” 

“Me!” Father sputters and flails his arms. Tiny ghosts flutter madly around his head, several nearly landing on a field of greying hair. “How can you possibly say I am responsible?”

“Well, you did insist on reading The Canterville Ghost as an encore to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow at the children’s Samhain celebration.” Vincent waves his hands, sending the little spirits spiraling. “I only provided some fishing line and a box of tissues.”

Catherine, an old trunk, an empty chamber Below

“Are you sure we should be in here, Catherine? It doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” She points at a solitary trunk, an island in an empty sea. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I need your help.” She touches Jamie gently on the arm. “You were her closest friend.”

Jamie takes a deep breath and opens the trunk. A few pieces of threadbare clothing, a discarded book, a worn-out hairbrush. She knows the treasure she seeks.

She places a tarnished gold locket in Catherine’s hand. “When you see Laura, tell her I miss her.”

Olivia, a pair of shoes, the dining chamber

At the dining chamber entrance, Luke wriggles from his mother’s arms, squealing as his feet touch the floor, pleased he hasn’t toppled over this time, at least not yet.

“Be careful, Luke!”

His mother’s words are gleefully ignored by the grinning toddler. He stamps his little feet in his first pair of handmade boots.

She smiles down at him. “You like your new boots, don’t you, sweetie?” She reaches for his hand. “Let’s go show everyone how well you’re walking in them.”

No, not…everyone.

A mother’s joy. A wife’s pain.

Maybe someday your daddy will hold your hand again, too.

Joe, a wrapped sandwich, Catherine’s desk

Joe opens his door and takes a quick survey of the area. Good, no one around for once.

He grabs a plastic-wrapped package from his office refrigerator, then sprints to Catherine’s desk. Shoving aside folders he’d stacked there earlier, he spreads out a checkered cloth napkin.

He carefully places the package where she can’t miss seeing it, then adds a note. Put this in the new microwave for about five minutes. Enjoy!

He scoots back to his office, smiling as he pictures Catherine’s delight when she discovers her vanished wrapped sandwich has been magically replaced by his mother’s famous lasagna.

Zach, a Halloween costume, a classroom chamber

Finally! There it is, under a table in the deserted classroom. It must have fallen out of his knapsack.

Zach polishes the pewter ladle against his sleeve, relieved it hadn’t acquired any new scratches. It is the crowning touch to his costume, after all.

He thinks of the essays they’d written last week, the ones about their heroes. A dark memory creeps in again, a toddler, cold and close to starving.

He shakes it off. Those days are gone forever, thanks to his hero.

He grins, hoping William will recognize a miniature version of himself at the Halloween party tonight.

Mouse, a box of crayons, Father’s study/library

Mouse frowns at his coloring book. Another hole. Colored too hard. Broke a crayon – again. And it was a present, the latest since being welcomed into his new family.

Alone, he swings his little feet under the table in Father’s study. Waiting’s hard. Lessons are hard too. Not sure which is harder.

He scatters the crayons, arranges them in tiny sculptures. Wonder what this could be. Or this. Or that.

Okay, color again, then read when Father comes in. Make letters fit into patterns like crayons become shapes.

He sighs. Will it ever be okay to color outside the lines?

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2024

Vincent, Central Park,  snowstorm

“Please, Devin, I really want to go! Just this once!”  Tears trickled from scrunched-up eyes to trembling lips. “Please!”

Devin sighed. “I know, but you heard Father.” He patted his little brother on the shoulder. “I’m still being punished for trying to sneak you out to see the Christmas lights.”

Vincent nodded and wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Sorry, Dev. It’s okay. Never mind.” He trudged to his bed, climbed in, and wrapped himself in a quilt. “G’night.”

In a heartbeat, Devin was at his side, boots and jacket in hand. “Let’s go before all the snow melts!”

Father, kitchen chamber, a complaint

“What’s all this?!” Father’s quest for a late night cup of tea ended abruptly.

He frowned at a litter of crumbs and paperbag scraps, the remains of their supply of oatmeal cookies. “You know you’re not allowed in this chamber!”

The culprit’s eyes glittered with guilt.

“What do you say for yourself?”

Father listened patiently to a garbled explanation, then sighed and patted the perpetrator on the head.  “Well, if you’re still hungry, let’s see what we can find.” 

Soon an apple, walnuts, and a dollop of peanut butter put an end to the complaint.

Arthur was happy – and full. 

Joe, Catherine’s apartment, a gift

Sighing, Joe walked slowly toward Catherine’s apartment.

Why wasn’t he with his buddies? A palentine party with some beers and a few games of pool – or home alone watching the game on tv.

Instead, he’d become the poster boy for Valentine’s Day cliches. Even the gifts he clutched –  roses, wine – were proof of that. 

And as for his date, wasn’t it enough she’d already broken his heart?

The door swung open. Catherine swept past him. “Good luck, Joe,” she whispered. “She’s waiting for you.”

He looked into Erica’s eyes, saw the hope, saw the truth.

Everyone deserves a second chance.

Mary, the Pipe Chamber, a piece of clothing

Near dawn, the pipe chamber is quiet. Devoted to his calling, still the Pipe Master relishes the moments before daybreak.  A time to think, to plan, to remember.

From his shirt pocket, he withdraws a worn linen neckerchief, soft as a whisper. Smiling, he embraces the memory of a boy, the cloth tied over his eyes, leaving him sightless but unafraid..

“LIsten carefully, my son. Let your ears teach you.”  

A talisman of love, of devotion, of destiny.

He doesn’t hear Mary’s footsteps. “Is that going in the laundry basket?”

He shakes his head and tucks it over his heart. 

Rebecca, Staten Island Ferry, Winterfest candle

He shivered in his tweed coat. Who would stand on the upper deck of the Staten Island Ferry in the dead of winter?

Someone who needs the blizzard blast of icy wind to scatter the ashes of his memories before they flared and consumed him.

Their love had once offered a gentler fire, the steady glow of a candle’s gleam, special and precious like the ones she crafted for Winterfest. But they’d smothered that flame long ago.

He gazed at the skyline, remembering the world below its streets. A spark of hope flickered in his heart, faltered, then vanished forever.

Kipper, Museum of Natural History, a pair of ice skates

The docent’s drone made Kipper regret finding that flyer in the park and obtaining Father’s permission.

He stifled a yawn. It had all sounded so exciting. A tour of the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life. A chance to see the blue whale up close, to learn about sea creatures he’d never seen, maybe never would.

He’d even spent all his hard-earned money on a ticket.

A nudge to his ribs. 

“Are you bored, too?”

He nodded at the girl, whispered, “Yes!”

“Wanna go to Lasker Rink? We can take turns with my ice skates.”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Pascal, the underground river, a bright light

“This had better be a serious emergency!” Pascal’s muttered grumble was the only sound save for the rhythmic pounding of his feet. He frowned. Why do they need my help? I’m not strong like Vincent and Winslow. And they know I should never leave the Pipe Chamber!  

Soon he could hear the rushing flow of water up ahead, and – was that someone giggling? 

He halted, listening carefully, then crept forward. Whispered voices hushed. What the –

He rounded a curve in the passageway, then burst onto the riverbank. Torches flared and bright voices lit up the darkness.

“Surprise, Pascal! Happy birthday!”

Catherine, Chamber of the Winds, a key

Whistles, shrieks, hums, shouts. Even a few attempts at scales. 

Amazingly, nothing was smothered by the whooshing wind. Its power instead enhanced and magnified the sounds invading its domain.

Catherine clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone, that’s enough ‘warming up’. Geoffrey and Samantha are going to pass out the sheet music. Then we’ll start our rehearsal.”

Kipper couldn’t resist one last high-pitched whistle. “You were right, Catherine! The acoustics in here are awesome!”

Zach readied his guitar, Jamie her flute.

Catherine smiled at the children arrayed in chorus position, then raised her hand.

“In the Key of C, one, two, three…”

Jamie, the library, a flower

“I know it’s here somewhere,” Jamie mutters as she searches the shelves in the library. “I’m sure I saw it right over – “

Her eyes light up as she pulls the little book from the shelf. The Language of Flowers. It is exactly what she needs.

Glancing quickly over the railing to make sure no one had seen her, she turns and races down the stairs toward a place where she can consult the book undisturbed.

She has plans for it. The perfect way to send a message to someone special.

Now, she just needs to get the right flowers.

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2025

Joe, his office, a phone message

No surprise — another phone message. Just get it over with.

A heavy sigh, a shake of his head, a vague memory of a story from Catholic school about Saint Monica’s endless patience dealing with her son.

Only this time the roles were reversed. And while he’d never actually seen himself as a saint…

“Absolutely, Mom, your lasagna is still the best. Yes, I’m working too hard. No, I didn’t forget to pick up my tux for Nick’s wedding.”

Five, four, three, two, one. And here it comes.

But this time he smiled.

“Yes, Mom, I am bringing a date.”

William, Winterfest, a hat

Steam from the bubbling caldron coats his face. Winterfest wears him out, but he doesn’t mind that much. A grumble or two can’t dim the glow in his heart. 

Everything’s under control.  So, chat with friends? Play some chess? Maybe even dance?

“Hey, William!”

A wrapped hatbox is thrust at him.

“What’s this?”

Kipper shrugs. “I don’t know. Some lady said to give it to you.”

“What lady?”

“She was old. Must be a Helper. But she’s gone now.”

As the boy skitters away, William notices a tag half-hidden under a ragged ribbon. HIs heart shudders. How can it be?

Catherine, Father’s library, a list

“What’s this?” Father removes a piece of lined paper long-forgotten in a desk drawer.

Keeps Vincent from our chess games.

Persists in buying items for the community when I’ve repeatedly asked her to stop.

Indulges the children with far too much attention.

Lets Peter tell that unseemly story about their first meeting.

Will not take a hint!

He chuckles at the list he’d written nearly four years earlier, then uncaps his pen to draw a firm line through each word. He begins to crumple the page, then adds one final entry. The only one that matters.

She loves my son.

Devin, Vincent’s chamber, a coin

“You guys are such jerks!  No way you’re gonna find gold coins down here!”

Devin glared at Mitch. “Who says you know everything? What if we can?”

“Well, you can’t! I’m outta here — wasting my time with losers!”

The boys waited until stomping footfalls faded.

Vincent opened his fist. Candlelight glinted on a secret they’d vowed to keep. “Dev, I’m glad we don’t have to share anything with him now.”

“We were never going to.” Devin grinned at his little brother. “Grab your flashlight and the map. Now he’s gone, we can go find the rest of the treasure!”

Vincent, the Great Falls, a broken lock

“Vincent!” The boy shouted over the roar of the falls. He climbed up to where his friend sat and dropped a battered padlock into his outstretched hand. “Can you fix this? I asked Cullen, but he said it was a goner.”

“I don’t know, Eric.” He yanked hard on the rusty shackle. “It’s jammed shut, and see – the key is missing. I think Cullen is right.”

“Yeah, I know. But I really need it for something special…for Ellie.”

How could anyone turn away from the glistening tears, ignore the dimming hope?

It was unthinkable. Impossible.

“Come, let’s go find Mouse.” 

Laura, her apartment, a journal

She sat at her kitchen table, relieved the journal Elizabeth had given her was unlined, almost like a drawing pad. She needed space for both words and pictures.

Slowly, painstakingly, she drew twenty-six small individual hands, then carefully printed letters beneath them, capitals and lowercase.

It needed pictures like those on the alphabet chart still hanging in the classroom chamber. She was no artist, but she’d try her best, and Elizabeth would help. She, too, knew what it meant to tell her stories in eloquent silence.

When the book was finished, little Riley, newly rescued, would become Laura’s first student.

Cullen, his workshop, a cupcake

“See, it cracked right down the middle.” William traced the jagged line splintering his favorite cutting board. “Think you can fix it?”

Cullen shrugged. “It’s pretty messed up. How about you toss it, and I’ll make you a new one?”

The cook clutched it to his chest. “It…it…” His voice caught and quavered. “It belonged to my grandfather.” 

Cullen blinked hard. Not what he’d expected to hear. 

“Okay, let me take it down to my workshop. See what I can do.” He winked at his old friend. “But it’s gonna cost you.”

William grinned. “I already baked the chocolate cupcakes.”

Mary, the Chamber of the Winds, a map

A crackly paper slipped from the book and floated to the floor of the library loft. She quickly retrieved it, keeping her finger between the pages to mark her place.

Faded ink in squiggly lines and arrows, curving and pointing, symbols and numbers. A map. A very old one.  

Father appeared behind her so quietly she hadn’t known he was there. “Mary, what’s that you’ve found?”

“I think it’s a map. But to where?”

“So that’s what happened to it!” His eyes gleamed. “Would you like to discover what’s beyond some of the alcoves in the Chamber of the Winds?”  

Daily Drabble Challenges – Winterfest Online 2026

Olivia, Father’s desk, a box

She crawled under Father’s desk as quickly as her four-year-old knees could manage. No one would think of looking for her here. For once she’d be the winner of hide-and-seek!

She heard the thump of running feet. Giggles turned to gasps. “Get out, Vincent! I was here first!”

He pulled a tiny box from his pocket. “LIvvie, if I give you this, can I stay?”

Hmmm… She hadn’t lost a tooth yet, but she’d heard all about the tooth fairy. It sounded like a pretty good deal. Win-win as Devin always said. 

“Okay!”

She scooted over and he scooted in.

Vincent, Catherine’s apartment, a colander

Catherine thrust aside a mound of tissue paper and held up a hole-speckled metal bowl. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“None at all.” He scrabbled a hand through the box. “I think this thing is a spatula.”

“And that’s obviously a spoon of some kind.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s something else for cooking?”

They shared a grin. 

“What made Nancy think you’d enjoy such things as your birthday gift?”

“No clue…oh…” She cast him a sultry smile. “Maybe because I told her you and I have been heating things up.”

They melted together.  “Then, Catherine, let’s get…cooking!”

Day 3: Laura, the Great Falls, a bracelet

She leaps into the water, sending cascades flying. Not as powerful and pounding as the falls beside her, but a force to be reckoned with all the same. Just as she will be.

She scoops up water, lets it soak her hair, gleaming droplets like a diadem. She swirls her arms, liquid orbs encircling her wrists like crystal bracelets.

True, it’s a bit dangerous, definitely daring to be here all alone. But she craves it – sound pulsating, throbbing all around her, filling her with its shout and song. 

She is denied music of voice and orchestra. This is her symphony.

Catherine, Narcissa’s chamber, a letter

All-seeing clouded eyes, guttering candles in waves of darkness, unrecognizable scents and sounds. A place undiscovered, a person unknown.

She should have been afraid. But there was soothing in the sweet smile, comfort in the warm laugh, promise in the soft pressing of a red ribbon into her hand.

“You are sixteen, child. It’s time for things foretold.”

Cathy whirled the ribbon into the air to let it fall to the stony floor, creating the shape of a perfect V.

When she awoke in her own room, there was no memory of the dreamed prophecy.

Until once upon another time…

Father, the dining chamber, a large crystal

The monthly variety show was scheduled for tomorrow evening, right after William’s clean-up crew finished their tasks. But tonight Father was seated alone, a captive audience of one.

He simply couldn’t say no to his old friend. He was happy to help. Yet how many more times must he watch the same old trick being rehearsed?

He hoped his smile looked far more genuine than it felt. He tried not to sigh as he tapped the overturned cup. Maybe this time he’d be wrong and Sebastien would be satisfied.

“I believe the crystal is under this one.”

Damn! Right again!

Jamie, the Abyss, a scarf

It jerked and tossed in the winds whipping up from the Abyss, an emerald banner snagged in a crevice, saved from destruction by a captive corner of its silken length. 

Jamie carefully leaned forward to snatch it to safety. The airs above the Abyss and the depths below were filled with secrets – but this?

She smoothed the soft, fragile fabric and her fingers caught on snippets of embroidery. She traced the letters. MC.  Who could it…

She sighed. Of course…

She folded the scarf carefully and secured it in her pocket. Perhaps he’d find some small solace in its return.

Devin, Central Park, a feather

An improbable find, its quill caught in the rough-flaked bark of an elm at the edge of the Sheep Meadow. Devin might have left it there, but it fluttered in the breeze, shimmering as if trying to catch his attention.

He pulled it free. He’d seen a lot of wildlife in his travels and knew this for what it was – the feather of a snowy egret, silken, soft, a swath of frost on a summer day. 

He held it aloft to let it sway and flutter like a dancer, a piece of cloud…a gift for one who dwelt in darkness.

Paracelsus, the carousel, a flower

He stared at the shadowy motionless carousel horses, imagining them whirling out of control, throwing children to fracture in bloody heaps at their parents’ feet. He’d expected that enticing image would help assuage the anger he felt toward himself for failing to reach his goal. But it hadn’t.

Winterfest. Their insipid celebration only days away and a plan still eluded him.

His gaze lit on a single carved flower glinting in the darkness. A silver rose. Yes, it had…definite possibilities…

He’d always heard it said ‘the devil takes care of his own’. Evidently he still remained in his mentor’s good graces. 

Day 9: Mouse, main branch of NY Public Library, a deck of cards

“Mouse, get off there! We’re going to get caught!”

He grinned down at her. “Don’t worry, Jamie!” He gripped the red ribbon around Fortitude’s neck. “Won’t fall. Won’t get caught!”

She could picture a police officer dragging Mouse to the sidewalk, handcuffing him while the marble lions looked on. Fortitude might admire his efforts. Patience would probably disapprove.

“Seriously – get down!”

He laughed, flourishing the Joker, saved from a well-worn deck of cards. “Sebastien says that’s me. Brave, bold, takes chances!”

She sighed. “You better hope he has another magic trick ready, or you’ll be spending Christmas in jail!”

Additional drabbles

For Vincent’s Birthday

The Past

The ballerina swayed in the candlelit chamber, her thoughts for once unconsumed by her own dreams and wishes.

‘Vincent’s turning thirteen. I need to find an amazing gift.’

Possessions were scarce Below, certainly nothing right for her best friend’s special day.

‘I know! I’ll dance to his favorite music – the Chopin nocturne!’

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. She felt a sudden, familiar fluttering. ‘Or maybe a kiss…my first.’

No!

She could not surrender her dreams. She would offer a dance but not her heart. It would have to be enough.

“Happy birthday, Vincent,” she whispered as she whirled away.

The Present

In the Arizona desert, Devin gazes at constellations in a star-drenched sky. Cygnus, Cepheus, Draco. Only a new moon tonight, unlike another long-ago January 12 when he’d given his brother a phenomenal gift – his first look at the luminous wonder of a full moon.

Its brilliance had glittered on the new-fallen snow in the park and bathed the upturned face and gleaming blue eyes of the awestruck little boy.

Something so ordinary, almost meaningless, had been a miraculous gift for one small child whose life was confined to candlelit gloom.

If only…

Devin blinks back tears.

“Happy birthday, little brother.”

The Near Future

Father places a velvet-covered box in Vincent’s outstretched hand. “I know it’s only the 11th, but I wanted you to have this tonight…before you go Above to see Catherine.”

“Thank you, Father, but are you sure? Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Father shakes his head. “No, it can’t. I’ve given this much thought, and I’ve kept it from you far too long.”

Vincent unfastens the ornate clasp and opens the box.

A delicate ring glistens in the candlelight.

“It was Margaret’s” Father’s smile is bittersweet. “Don’t let me force you into becoming the fool that I once was.”

“Happy birthday, Vincent.”

And Beyond

The rhythmic clicking of knitting needles falls silent. The woman rises from her rocking chair and, with a gentle self-effacing smile, admires her handiwork, a lovely design of rosebuds, ruffles, and ribbons crafted from the softest wool.

“Just think,” she murmurs, carefully folding the pale pink blanket, “their first baby, and she’s due in only two days’ time. How perfect!”

Mary’s thoughts drift to a long-ago January twelfth when their world received another precious newborn, a special child who would change all their lives forever.

“A new life,” she says softly, “there can be no greater gift.”

“Happy birthday, Vincent.”

A Drabble for Two Anniversaries – Our Show’s 33rd and Vincent and Catherine’s 3rd

Moonlight glimmered on the rippling surface of a lake. Insistent cries of barred owls calling to their mates soared through unfurling spring leaves in an oak and maple forest.

His voice was full of wonder. “We’re here at last…Such beauty. I had never dreamed it could be.”

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling starlight. “And for our anniversary, three years ago tonight.”

He gathered her into his arms. “They have been the best years of my life.”

“And mine,” she murmured, snuggling closer. “I wonder where we’ll be thirty years from now.”

His smile was luminous. “We’ll be together.”

CABB Challenge for the 2024 April 12th Anniversary

Anniversary Gifts

Vincent, Dr. Wong’s shop, an anniversary gift

She’d really tried. But it was hopeless, even after all those hours spent with patient, stoic Lin in the tiny kitchen above Dr. Wong’s shop. Luckily there’d been ample amounts of burn-soothing balms and cut-finger-staunching ointments on hand. She should have brought some home.

The crumpled recipe bounced into the bin. What was the point? Thank goodness she had other talents.

She cleared away the debris, tore off her apron, and reached for the phone.

Vincent might be a bit disappointed about take-out – again. But unwrapping the rest of his anniversary gift after dinner would definitely make up for it.

Catherine, Mouse’s chamber, an anniversary gift

A big word, but he still remembered that long-ago time when Vincent taught him to sound out letters until they made sense.

Got it!  Anniversary!

Frowning, he read the card aloud. “Happy Anniversary, Mouse! Love, Catherine”

Must be a mistake. Vincent’s Catherine, not Mouse’s!

Still, a present should be opened…

Inside, a dazzling array of nuts and bolts, wire and twine, handtools of all sorts, leather work gloves, a pair of goggles. All for him! But why?

Another note. “One year ago today, you rescued them with your courage and your love.”

Sometimes a touch too much is just right.

Any Classic character, any location Above or Below, an anniversary gift

He left his small suitcase with the first sentry he encountered, grateful for the man’s promise to delay announcement of his arrival.

HIs tunnel family didn’t expect him until tomorrow…but that was much too late. He smiled; the lines carved into his face, framing his mouth, his eyes, softened. February 17. Their eighth anniversary. 

The smile faded. And they’d spent the last five apart.

But never again.

He hesitated in the doorway, watching her sleep in the bed they hadn’t shared in such a long, long time.

The scent of white lilacs awakened her. 

The resiliency of love sustained them.

CABB Challenge for the 2023 September 25th Anniversary:

Short and Sweet (or Steamy) Stories

Mouse, an invitation, Greenwich Village

Right Place, Right Time

“Cool costume, bro!”

“Perfect!” His girlfriend beamed at a young man about to pass by their long line outside the Waverly Theater. “You’re gonna win for sure!”

Mouse hesitated. Were they talking to him?

“Win what?” He frowned. “Why?”

 “You’re kidding, right?” The boy pointed to the marquee. “$100 for best costume! But you need an invitation.”

Mouse’s shoulders slumped. “No invitation.”

The girl grabbed his arm. “We’ve got one – come with us!”

Mouse grinned. A pretty girl, a new pal, $100, plus a free movie – and all just for looking like Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves?!

Whoever that was!

Catherine, sheet music, the dining chamber

O, Sweetest Song

Catherine flourished a sheaf of sheet music. “Father, I found the one you want!”

“Perfect – a Mozart duet for tenor and soprano!”

“After all that practice with other songs, I’m glad we’ve made our choice.” She surveyed the vast chamber. “It’s too early for dinner. Should we rehearse here?”

“The acoustics are good…but we need privacy if this is to be our surprise at Winterfest.”

As the two scuttled away, another duo exchanged grins in the kitchen.

“So, that’s what we heard last night.” William snickered.

“Must have been.” Mary chuckled. “I’d worried someone had stepped on poor Arthur’s tail!”

William, a subway car, a Nathan’s hot dog cart

Heritage

It was as if it had happened only yesterday.

From Bushwick to Surf Avenue in a fetid subway car. “How much longer, Opa?”

“Soon, Wilhelm. Remember, patience is a bitter plant, but it has a sweet fruit.”

He’d just hoped it had sauerkraut and mustard on top, too.

A vision cherished, eternal.

A boy’s hand in a grandfather’s grip. Identical grins on ruddy faces. The striped awning of Nathan’s Famous.

Echoes of pride and hard-won achievement.

“No hotdog cart for us, enkel. A dining hall – like the one we will have someday!”

A destiny fulfilled.

“Another delicious dinner tonight, William!”

Samantha, a loud sound, Father’s library

EUREKA!

BANG?

POW?

BOOM?

Samantha gripped her pen so hard it nearly snapped in half. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

But it didn’t help.

ARGHHH!

Now, that was a good “loud sound” word! She grumbled and shook her head. But not right for her story, the hardest assignment Father had ever given the class.

She thumped her fist on the library table. The borrowed thesaurus jumped. THUD! CRASH!

“Still not good enough!”

Angry tears blurred her eyes. She hurled her notebook across the chamber.

SPLAT! THUNK!

ROAR!

OUCH!

Perfect. She should have asked Vincent for help hours ago.

Devin, a lost wallet, the Brooklyn Bridge

Someone I Used to Know

“Hey, mister! Stop!”

He paused on the Brooklyn Bridge walkway as a teenager sprinted toward him. Threadbare clothes, hair no barber had touched, yesterday’s dirt smudges on a thin face, one he’d seen years ago in a mirror’s reflection.

“You dropped this!” Grubby hands unfolded a wallet. “That you – Jeff Radler?”

A slow nod. “That’s me. Thanks, kid.”

“No problem.” A pivot back toward Brooklyn. 

“Wait! Let me give you something!”

The teenager shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I just wanted to do the right thing.”

He pressed his last twenty dollars into the boy’s hand. “So do I.”

Father, a notebook, Chinatown

Radiance, Which Was Once So Bright

Hip throbbing, he navigated the noisy, narrow streets. Maybe this was nothing more than a desperate mistake after all.

No. He refused to let himself believe such things…not yet.

Weaving through crowds on Mott Street, past Huang’s Teashop, shuttered now, only ghosts within. West on Bayard. Memories of a tiny store filled with pearls and jade…promises and kisses…

Limping south on Mulberry. No need for the address written in the notebook hidden in his overcoat pocket.

A neon “open” sign glowing above the door of Columbus Park Clinic. A trembling sigh, an unwanted tear.

Would she still be there, too?

Vincent, a trinket box, the tunnel entrance in Central Park

Pictures Worth a Thousand Words

Catherine traced her fingertips over the design on the lid of a trinket box. Peacocks, tigers, lotus blossoms, mangos, initials. KS. Perhaps the previous owner?

“Vincent, where did you find this? It’s lovely!”

“Near the tunnel in the park.”

“What’s inside?”  A gentle shake, a soft thump.

“I don’t know. Shall we find out?”

He hooked a claw into the clasp. They reached for a little book, its pages fluttering open, revealing vivid scenes from their steamiest dreams.

“Well, now we know what KS stands for,” he murmured.

“Tonight’s bedtime story?”

They shared a sizzling grin. “Starting with Chapter One…”

CABB Challenge

December Holidays Mini-Challenge Winter 2021

Joe, holiday party, ugly Christmas sweater

Good Intentions 

Horribly late, Joe tore off his jacket and flung it at the attendant hovering by the entrance to Tavern on the Green.

Ignoring a startled, “But, sir!”, Joe strode through the doorway. And froze.

Chandeliers, champagne flutes, orchestra, tuxedos, designer gowns.

Where were the Christmas lights, beer mugs, ‘80’s rock, and…other images like the one displayed on his chest — a sunburned Santa wearing a sequined Speedo, sipping a martini on a sandy beach, proclaiming, “I got my Christmas wish!”

He spun for the exit but not before hearing smothered laughter in a familiar feminine voice.

“Joe, the ugly sweater party is tomorrow night!”

Father, children’s holiday concert, a secret

And God Send You A Happy New Year

The sound of children’s voices, heartfelt and harmonious, filled the candlelit dining chamber. The cherished holiday tradition was progressing just as expected.

Nestled among friends and family, Father glanced at the handwritten program clutched in his fist. Only three more songs, then everyone would join in for the annual holiday sing-along. Or so they all thought.

He took another sip of warm herbal tea, lightly laced with lemon, as he made a final mental run-through of his boyhood favorite, “Here We Come A-wassailing.”

His stomach was full of butterflies, but his heart was full of joy.

What better gift than to share his secret talent at last?