Drabble 51 – Pallescent

I had this weird idea when I was a kid that after I fell asleep at night, I’d go out and have wild and crazy adventures as an entirely different person. It’s probably because I read one of those kid-friendly adaptations of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but I distinctly remember fantasizing that I was a witch, complete with pointy hat and broomstick, swearing that I’d remember the night’s adventures this time.

As an adult, I have a suspicion that I wasn’t actually doing anything more exciting than dreaming. I don’t think that the desire for a secret double life is all that uncommon; aside from daydreaming about being a secret witch, I imagined or made believe that I was somehow related to all kinds of other fantasy beings. Fairies, werewolves, wizards, vampires, gods–anything that wasn’t a boring old human.

Unfortunately, I am a boring old human. Writing is kind of a way to get around that, I suppose, and less people look at you funny if pretending is written down rather than acted out.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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Bolide

Drabble 50 – Bolide

I’ve never been much of a sci-fi person, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. I love fantasy, and the two are often lumped in together in a way that makes me feel somewhat disingenuous if I say I like SFF.

It’s not that I don’t like any sci-fi; I like things like Moon and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and most of the Philip K. Dick I’ve read, but if I’m going to pick another world to travel to it’s more likely to have magic and werewolves in it than spaceships.

I get the appeal though, I think. There’s something very hopeful about science fiction, and while the same might be true for other genres as well, so much of sci-fi is about looking forward and imagining what we might do in the future, or how we might have improved the past, or examining the courses humanity is better off avoiding. For somebody who wants to be an optimist as badly as me, that’s enticing. If only I could get into it the way I can other genres.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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Capripede

Drabble 49 – Capripede

Capripede

Fight Between a Satyr and a Woman by Augustin Hirschvogel

I’ve never been all that afraid of monsters. Moths, sure. Spiders, yes. The inevitability of death? Obviously. But despite all my fears about ghosts and demons and other things I’m never quite sure that I believe in, monsters have never been a big concern for me.

Maybe that’s because I tend to lump things like the Jersey Devil in with demons or because there just aren’t enough genuinely terrifying stories of monsters out there. Oh, sure, you’ve got your Goatman and your Mothman and Sasquatch (which I am quite familiar with, being from the Pacific Northwest), but none of them have really left a lasting impression on me. As a teenager, I always wanted to go on a monster-hunting road trip across the US–it never happened, in part because everybody seems to think ‘monster hunting’ also includes staying in haunted hotels (it does not) and in part because I hate road trips.

There are already a lot of things to be afraid of in life. I’m grateful that this, at least, is not one of the ones that keeps me up at night.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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Phasmophany. And breakfast.

Drabble 48 – Phasmophany

I listened to a horror story over the weekend so bleak and graphic that I felt a little sick afterward.

It wasn’t a bad story by any stretch of the imagination. It was well written and poignant, with great thematic depth alongside its disturbing and grotesque elements. The things that scare us are often unpleasant, but the story didn’t sit well with me, regardless.

What I like about horror is not the reminder that the world sucks and I have to live in it. I am all too aware of the fact that life is difficult and often full of shadows and fear. I like horror that turns those shadows inside out, like sock puppets, and makes them dance for us.

There’s a lot to be afraid of, but I prefer my horror to be a triumph in the end, the heroine stumbling, bloody and wild-eyed, from whatever carnage she’s survived. It doesn’t always work out that way, and that’s fine–there’s enough other elements of horror to satisfy me, like exploring the world’s darkness through fictions and myth. Horror is powerful because fear is powerful, but I’m a sucker for happy endings.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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