#drabble deck

Princess Olivette, Crispin’s future bride, had been in the kingdom for a week and a half. For all that time they had not shared a single word together and he’d only seen her through gaps in guards and servants, so Crispin did what he always did when something felt irritating to him, he broke tradition.

Olivette was surprised to see the face of her host appear over the edge of her balcony.

“The door is a simpler way of entering a room” she intoned properly.

“Doors are guarded and if actually want to talk to you, apparently we need privacy.”

Samson walked the slick cobbled street, the rain making a bad afternoon worse.

He hated work like this, it felt like someone delegating their dirty job to him. But it’s quick, easy and paying even if it’s peanuts, it’s better than going hungry.

Samson soon reached the residential area of the city and his first target, he walked up to the door and wrapped gently on it.

A tiny old lady answered the door, “Yes? Can I help you?”

Samson loomed over the woman, massive muscle-bound mercenary he was and pulled out a clipboard & colourful box.

“Girl Scout cookies.”

“Thank you for everything” A soft murmur pressed into Charlie’s shoulder blade.

Charlie rolled over, stretching in the hazy light of the early morning, to face Sam who squirmed awkwardly on the bed.

Charlie reached out and pulled them close, thwarting their embarrassed escape. Somewhere between the warmth of each other and proximity caused blushes all round.

Charlie raised a hand and gently cupped Sam, who pivoted laying a kiss delicately in Charlie’s palm. Charlie’s giddy smile at this became an invitation, for the trail of affection to race its way up their arm to their neck, their lips.

“Anytime”.

“Argh!” Sam shot up from a horrifyingly cruel and troublingly convincing nightmare.

There was a sickly moment of near silence, imperfect due to the shuddering gasps that rattled out of Sam’s throat.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie blurted, bursting through the bedroom door.

Sam couldn’t respond over the heaving breaths, Charlie took that as a ‘no’ and sat on the edge of the bed beside them. Comfort, soft and quiet brought Sam’s breathing down to normal.

Charlie stood, their job done but a yank on their wrist pulled them tumbling back to the mattress.

“Stay” a plea, answered with a gentle kiss.

“Can I pet your dog?”

Blaine only blinked at the abrupt question.

“Well, can I?” the woman pestered, her bright eyes pierced through her heavy fringe.

Blaine gesture at the giant, skeletal jaw of the Beast that loomed around him, “You can see it?” He asked in tone of genuine confusion, no one else ever seemed to notice it.

“Yeah” she beamed, “what breed is he?”

She reached up and scratched her nails first in the matted fur of what little rotting flesh remained, before shifting to its snout producing a sound that made Blaine shudder from spine to scalp.

“You ready for this?” this overly enthusiastic announcer’s voice boomed in the auditorium.

The hall was full of Witches of all schools and styles, the competition was going to be fierce.

Off to one side an illusionist creating detailed effigies of monsters then maintaining the illusion as its form changes to a different creature.

Elsewhere an enchanter was perched atop a ramshackle whirligig, a thin sliver visible as they’d pulled the tarp back to scratch additional runes into it.

“This is your 15 minute warning, 15 minutes until judging commences”.

Zohar grinned, this was the favourite of his scholarly duties.

“We need to leave now!” Leyland tossed Johnson his coat.

“Why?” Johnson question while also gathering essentials for a hasty exit.

“Apparently the last job wasn’t as clean as I thought it was, we’ve been compromised.” The dire news delivered in Leyland’s matter-of-fact tone did not ease the situation.

The scramble to leave was interrupted by a loud and ominous honk, the pair of professional peer through the blinds as two brightly coloured car parked up outside.

“This is why I said ‘No Clowns’” Johnson bemoaned.

“Calm down.”

“There are two cars Leyland, there could be hundreds of the bastards”.

‘Please help me’. It was an innocuous phrase in certain contexts, this was not one of these contexts.

‘Please help me’ was etched into the wall of the cave, hundreds maybe thousands of time.

‘Please help me’ in English, in this cave, on an inhabited planet.

‘Please help me’ as the only sign that there had ever been life here.

‘Please help me’ a cry that had obviously gone unanswered.

‘Please help me’ The empty cave silently screamed in a million part harmony.

‘Please help me’, ignored.

‘Please help me’.

‘Please help me’.

‘Please help me’ the Astronaut started carving.