THROUGH
THE GLASS
1
Laura dipped her toe into the tub, breaking the glassy surface. She sunk, all but her face submerged, her mop of hair floating around like a ghostly mane. As both she and the ripples settled, her eyes shut, revealing a monstrous, swollen face. Her own, perverted into ghoulish horror; twisted and rotting; splinters of cheekbones protruding from ever-dripping wounds; empty wells in place of eyes, edges encrusted with pus; a mangled, drooping jaw slanting its cracked lips into a taunting grin that quivered with anger and anticipation; her defiled reflection framed by wild locks, matted, stained and sodden with feces.
2
It arrived weeks before; a distant, blurry spot in the black of Laura's mind. Closer each night; each blink. Now, it was behind her eyelids, big as a theater-screen. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but the face still came, penetrating her pupils.
She felt it enter her.
Silence.
The water returned to glass.
Her eyes opened, but she couldn’t see.
Emerging from the bath and walking naked to the door, she felt it all, but did none of it. A prisoner, crippled, sunken to the depths of her own body.
Laura never came out of that bathroom.
But something did.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
This is a sample of a DOUBLE DRABBLE.
Laura dipped her toe into the tub, breaking the glassy surface. She sunk, all but her face submerged, her mop of hair floating around like a ghostly mane. As both she and the ripples settled, her eyes shut, revealing a monstrous, swollen face. Her own, perverted into ghoulish horror; twisted and rotting; splinters of cheekbones protruding from ever-dripping wounds; empty wells in place of eyes, edges encrusted with pus; a mangled, drooping jaw slanting its cracked lips into a taunting grin that quivered with anger and anticipation; her defiled reflection framed by wild locks, matted, stained and sodden with feces.
2
It arrived weeks before; a distant, blurry spot in the black of Laura's mind. Closer each night; each blink. Now, it was behind her eyelids, big as a theater-screen. She squeezed her eyes tighter, but the face still came, penetrating her pupils.
She felt it enter her.
Silence.
The water returned to glass.
Her eyes opened, but she couldn’t see.
Emerging from the bath and walking naked to the door, she felt it all, but did none of it. A prisoner, crippled, sunken to the depths of her own body.
Laura never came out of that bathroom.
But something did.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
This is a sample of a DOUBLE DRABBLE.
SLASHER'S LAMENT
1
Serial killing lost its thrill three films into the franchise. I wanted to feel those ineffable pins and needles again, the strain and the sting this poor kid felt as he heaved what he believed to be his final breaths. I never will feel or taste the doom-saturated oxygen he huffs here tonight, what with me being a half-demonic, re-animated ghoul compelled by some mad scientist type who wields a hypnotic talisman mysteriously connected to my dark past over my walking corpse like a curse-inducing remote control. We covered the backstory in the first two films. I miss deathly fear.
2
Fear meant thrills. You. Are. Going. To. Die. Maybe tonight. Maybe in seconds.
So, young Mort here is gonna dangle. My leather-gloved hand a talon on his polo shirt collar; his Adidas flung from his wildly kicking legs, his hands clasped, praying I don't drop him over the rail of the lantern-room in this quiet foggy town’s 20-story lighthouse. He can’t even be 18 yet, I’d wager. These kids don’t even tell each other stories about me anymore. Media's numbed their fear.
I won’t drop him.
Just want him to think I will.
I want him to remember the fear.
--
by Illustrated Man
This is a sample of a DOUBLE DRABBLE.
Serial killing lost its thrill three films into the franchise. I wanted to feel those ineffable pins and needles again, the strain and the sting this poor kid felt as he heaved what he believed to be his final breaths. I never will feel or taste the doom-saturated oxygen he huffs here tonight, what with me being a half-demonic, re-animated ghoul compelled by some mad scientist type who wields a hypnotic talisman mysteriously connected to my dark past over my walking corpse like a curse-inducing remote control. We covered the backstory in the first two films. I miss deathly fear.
2
Fear meant thrills. You. Are. Going. To. Die. Maybe tonight. Maybe in seconds.
So, young Mort here is gonna dangle. My leather-gloved hand a talon on his polo shirt collar; his Adidas flung from his wildly kicking legs, his hands clasped, praying I don't drop him over the rail of the lantern-room in this quiet foggy town’s 20-story lighthouse. He can’t even be 18 yet, I’d wager. These kids don’t even tell each other stories about me anymore. Media's numbed their fear.
I won’t drop him.
Just want him to think I will.
I want him to remember the fear.
--
by Illustrated Man
This is a sample of a DOUBLE DRABBLE.
ALIVE
The doctor lived in his basement—cutting and pasting and tearing and stitching; alone with his monster.
He will live...
The doctor laid the still, patchwork man on a table; pulled a lever and gears turned and the ceiling opened, offering his creation to the stormy night.
Thunder boomed and lightning arced, stabbing the monster on the table in the sky.
He will live...
The doctor laughed in cackles and shrieks as he lowered the table and his creation.
Alive! It’s alive!
But it wasn’t. It was just a corpse, cooked by lightning. Cooked just right, in fact, for supper.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 3
April 2015
He will live...
The doctor laid the still, patchwork man on a table; pulled a lever and gears turned and the ceiling opened, offering his creation to the stormy night.
Thunder boomed and lightning arced, stabbing the monster on the table in the sky.
He will live...
The doctor laughed in cackles and shrieks as he lowered the table and his creation.
Alive! It’s alive!
But it wasn’t. It was just a corpse, cooked by lightning. Cooked just right, in fact, for supper.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 3
April 2015
SCIENCE FAIR
My fourth-grade science fair was boring. Everybody did the same two things: vinegar-volcanoes; plant-growth charts.
I made a volcano.
I found something on the floor; a golf ball-sized nut-thing. I asked and asked, but no one knew where it came from or what it was. I tossed it around, then dropped it into my volcano.
BOOM!
My project erupted, spraying red lava-goop, puddling on the floor.
GRRRRAAAAOOOOAAAARRRR!
A ten-foot vinegar monster rose from the goop-puddle and started grabbing parents, biting their heads off and—like tubes of toothpaste—squirting their guts into its mouth.
At least that’s what I saw.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 3
October 2014
I made a volcano.
I found something on the floor; a golf ball-sized nut-thing. I asked and asked, but no one knew where it came from or what it was. I tossed it around, then dropped it into my volcano.
BOOM!
My project erupted, spraying red lava-goop, puddling on the floor.
GRRRRAAAAOOOOAAAARRRR!
A ten-foot vinegar monster rose from the goop-puddle and started grabbing parents, biting their heads off and—like tubes of toothpaste—squirting their guts into its mouth.
At least that’s what I saw.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 3
October 2014
AL DENTE &
THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL
Chewed up and swallowed, I slid down with the muck into darkness. It was warm.
Coming to a fork, I was forced down the tunnel where the wind didn't blow.
Plunged into a vile, bubbling sea of slush, I swam, skin burning.
Everything weighed me down, but I moved on. Heavy. Heavier.
A river caught me and took me fast, gurgling and gasping, through a labyrinth of tunnels; through burning, stinking gases. I cursed my god!
Then my end came. I free fell into a frigid sea with the rest of the waste; at the bottom; disappeared down the drain.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 1
March 31, 2014
Writing as Quentin Dan Marino
Coming to a fork, I was forced down the tunnel where the wind didn't blow.
Plunged into a vile, bubbling sea of slush, I swam, skin burning.
Everything weighed me down, but I moved on. Heavy. Heavier.
A river caught me and took me fast, gurgling and gasping, through a labyrinth of tunnels; through burning, stinking gases. I cursed my god!
Then my end came. I free fell into a frigid sea with the rest of the waste; at the bottom; disappeared down the drain.
--
by The Man in the Yellow Hat
From DRABBLED 1
March 31, 2014
Writing as Quentin Dan Marino