Yet more amazing Drabbles (exactly 100 words long) from Chris Chmiel, a master of this particular form of writing – he also writes short stories, which I hope to wheedle out of him for this website ere long – watch this space.


“Read this.”

I accept the solicitor’s document and recognise my father’s handwriting.

“He instructed me to release this to the press upon his demise.”

With trembling hands, sweat forming on my brow and nausea rising from within, I read. My father, the renowned physician, saviour of countless lives with his skilful hands and scalpel, confesses he was Jack the Ripper. A betrayal by the woman he loved, fuelled by mind-bending drugs and alcohol turned him into a monster reaping revenge upon womankind.

I hurl the evidence into the fire while flicking open my knife.

“No living soul will ever know.”


Child Prodigy

“I was born in Lubeck in 1721. At age eight weeks, I engaged my parents in conversation,” four-year-old Christian Friedrich Heinecken informed Denmark’s king during a formal audience.


“Before my second birthday, I finished reading the Pentateuch. During my second year, I became acquainted with the Old and New Testaments. Last year, I commenced studying history, geography and languages. I am now fluent in French and Latin.”

“You’re a child prodigy!”

“My mind’s strong, my body’s very weak. I doubt I’ll celebrate my fifth birthday.”

“We must do something about that.” The king wiped a tear from his eye.



A snap of a twig triggers my consciousness into full alert.

He’s coming, the dirty rotten whacko! 

I tighten my grip on the cricket bat, ready to spring into action. The knickers-pincher will get a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.

He’s got a cheek, whoever he is. Third night in a row. He won’t be back, I guarantee that when I’ve finished with him.

“Gotcha!” I yell leaping from my hiding place brandishing my weapon.

The beam of a torch light blinds me.

“Hold it right there,” a voice commands.

“Sorry, officer, I thought you were someone else.”



Heracles sweltered in his hideout, within sight of the chained spread-eagled naked Prometheus. He cursed Zeus for subjecting this creator of man, this giver of fire to eternal punishment.

The eagle circling overhead, precipitously swooped, ripped open sunburnt flesh devouring the Titian’s liver, a daily ritual ordained by the chief of the gods.

A cry of pain and bewilderment filled the air as the winged scavenger, completing its assignment, spread its wings to depart. A javelin hurled with force pierced its breast.

“Time to set you free.” Brute strength ripped apart binding chains.

“Be damned!” Heracles’ fist defied Olympus’ pantheon.


“Jump, you bastard!”

Arnold, turning in disbelief, almost overbalanced on the ledge, six stories up. His manager was encouraging his suicide attempt.


“Remember the skinny Jack Smith at Riverview? The kid you bullied at school … that’s me. The tables have turned, I’ve made your life a misery. Do it, jump.”

Memories flooded back.

So that’s who he is. My foolish childish behaviors have come back to haunt me. Can I undo those wrongs?

“I’m sorry. I was a stupid little kid.”

“To bad, too late. Jump or I’ll come and push.”

Utter despair surfaced … one little step.

So, there you have them, an inspiring collection of intriguing Drabbles.  More to follow…………………..


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