My First Foray into Drabbles

Presenting the reject pile!

Photo by Kenshi Kingami on Unsplash

I was recently bitten by the short fiction bug. It started as a way to procrastinate working on my manuscript and ended up becoming something borderline obsessive. I was writing short stories at my day job. After hours and hours of writing and revision, I ended up submitting one of my works to a few different literary magazines for publication.

On that front, I’m still waiting for good news. I hope to have some to share soon! It’s a little ironic that I started writing short stories because I wanted so desperately to share them here, but now I’ve locked myself out of sharing them.

Unless they’re rejected, which I’m somewhat expecting. So I guess either way, it’s a win! Publication by proxy, or publication by Substack.

While I was in the midst of submissions, I came across this open call on Black Hare Press: a 100-word Drabble about Japanese Myths and Monsters. Okay, say less.

I wrote four drabbles. I was having so much fun trying to make something substantial in just 100 words. Today, I submitted one of them. So, officially my first fiction posted on Substack, I present the three that didn’t make the cut.

hitobashira (人柱)

Regardless of how many masons the Emperor summoned, the palace walls cracked anew each morning. The Shaman warned that the gods were displeased. The Emperor waited to hear the blessing, the ritual that would save his crumbling castle. Nothing so simple would please the gods. The masons were called back once more.

And it worked. The walls are unwavering now. The stifled sobs and desperate pleas are easy to ignore.

The Shaman was devout– a perfect pillar to the gods. Entombed, he must have prayed. But the gods granted him no mercy or death. Only breath. Only time. Only darkness.

---

kyokotsu (狂骨)

The haunted house was a rite of passage for village kids who delighted in terror: spend five minutes inside.

Each step on the rotten tatami creaked, and the tattered rice paper didn’t let in enough light to see. 

From the garden, something rattled. The young girl rushed to hide, breathing heavily. She watched in terror as bones scraped against the doorframe, joints cracking with each unnatural step. It smelled of rot.

The robes. It wore her brother’s robes. She had seen them just days ago when she dared Reo to go inside.

Now, she understood why he never came out.

---

yotsuya kaidan (四谷怪談)

“You swore you loved me, but threw me away.” 

The words spill from my lips, angry, but not mine– I never memorized them. The play has possessed me, but there are no actors, no set, no orchestra. The spotlight is too bright, too hot, and the audience is nothing but shadows. 

“I will rise again and again until I have my revenge.” 

The prop sword is wrong in my hands, heavy and real. The blade glints when raised, and the shadows lean in, captivated.

I kneel. The sword sinks into my chest.

On cue, I hear the whisper: Perfect. Again.

So that’s it! I’ve never really delved too deeply into the world of short fiction, micro fiction, etc., but I had a lot of fun with these. Please let me know what you think!