As this is the first entry of this sort of program, we are presenting a small selection of drabbles made from a trio of randomly generated words. However, we will be accepting entries for the final trio of words: (reporter, period, winter)! The three best ones will be presented in the next chapter. Click here to submit your entry.
(aviation, crash, thaw)
The swan holds its wings up,
Smoke trailing past the tips of its feathers.
But wings are the hallmark of aviation.
It would crash without them.
The swan holds its head high,
the sun enlightening, thawing, freeing.
(coal, selection, taste)
Little Cinza was given a peculiar gift.
She can taste coal!
The forbidden black nougat, dust and dirt that mingle.
She has a selection of this hardened black licorice.
Lignite is sweet. Anthracite is savory.
To her, coal is a ready-made snack; the flavor may vary.
(reporter, period, winter)
Like a young reporter’s namesake, winter bites.
Yet, the numbness of her hands is no impediment.
For every season is a period of tranquility.
Such is the spot of light surrounded by weeping clouds.
Like the tepid amongst the scorching.
Perhaps, the stillness after the chilling breeze.
A warm breath heaved by one’s will against the cold.
Wintertime, the wintertide, meets eyes of ivory.
Seeking out the hidden gold, they always find a story.
