20min Drabble Challenge: “Monolith”

Shoutout to @stnorahed on twitter for the word prompt! The 20 minutes is from the moment I jot down the first word till I write the last. I’ll sit and consider the theme and the visual imagery for some minutes beforehand, oftentimes googling images of the word.


Every day the molehill grew higher until it rose like a monolith in my backyard, haloed by the sun and moon. It became obvious it wasn’t a molehill, but my neighbor called the cops before I could decide what to do about it myself. The journalists and photographers came after the cops had done their stint. The scientists came last, carrying equipment bigger than themselves. These days, nobody comes.
I haven’t heard a word from anyone.
The molehill keeps growing.
It’s not a molehill, but nobody will tell me what it is.
Guess I’ll have to find out for myself.

20min Drabble Challenge: “Salacious”

Shoutout to @CrystalAHill on twitter for the word prompt! The 20 minutes is from the moment I jot down the first word till I write the last. I’ll sit and consider the theme and the visual imagery for some minutes beforehand, oftentimes googling images of the word. Laurell K. Hamilton herself and her body of work – which I hugely admire – inspired the topic of this drabble.


“Don’t call it salacious, mom.”
“I’ll call it what it is, my daughter or not.”
Erica rubbed her tired eyes. “You don’t know what it is.”
Her mother fiddled with her own wedding ring. “I obviously can’t tell you what to do, but—”
“Then stop, right there, and don’t do it.”
Her mother’s lips thinned with the effort of staying silent, but she ultimately failed. “Is Andy not enough for you? There’s couple’s therapy.”
“There’s no problem here, so what’re you trying to fix?”
“Your marriage!”
“It’s not broken.”
“You’re dating other men!”
“It’s called polyamory.”
“And women!”
“Po-ly-a-mo-ry.”

20min Drabble Challenge: “Incipient”


Shoutout to @MEmbergerauthor on twitter for the word prompt!
 The 20 minutes is from the moment I jot down the first word till I write the last. I’ll sit and consider the theme and the visual imagery for some minutes beforehand, oftentimes googling images of the word.


“Keep looking!” the girl says. “This only happens once a year.”
“What if it smells like rotten eggs?” the boy asks.
“You’re so dumb. Why would—”
“No, hear me out. What if—”
“Look, look!”
The bulbous pod of the cactus pops open, orange and white petals peeking out. The Queen of the Night only blooms once a year at midnight. The boy and the girl have waited for this.
When the flower is full, the girl raises her hands, grinning toothily, and slaps her palms together, crushing the flower. They both laugh, tasting the smell of crushed petals.


Photo credit – Diana Cochran Johnson