The Hinterland Chronicles: Bilqis (Drabble #1)


Remington Typewriter I’ve been con­ceiv­ing The Hin­ter­land Chron­i­cles for sev­er­al years, prob­a­bly six or more.

In Jan­u­ary of 2011 I was off from work for two weeks as I was suf­fer­ing from the excru­ci­at­ing pain of a pinched nerve.  If I had to wish a hor­rid pain on an ene­my, that would be it.  I’m still trau­ma­tized.  Dur­ing that time, I slept very lit­tle.  Between attacks of mus­cle spasms, at all times of the day and night and the steroids and the pain med­ica­tions I got very lit­tle sleep.  When I did sleep I was strick­en with mul­ti­ple recur­rent episodes of lucid dream­ing and hypno­gog­ic hal­lu­ci­na­tions.  I man­aged in that time to do some of what I felt to be my most crys­talline writ­ing.  That is how I felt at that time any­way.

I man­aged some inter­est­ing world build­ing and char­ac­ter devel­op­ment.  Inter­est­ing­ly, every­thing I wrote regard­ing The Hin­ter­land Chron­i­cles was writ­ten in drab­ble form.

drab­ble — A drab­ble is an extreme­ly short work of fic­tion of exact­ly one hun­dred words in length,[3] not nec­es­sar­i­ly includ­ing the title.[4] The pur­pose of the drab­ble is brevi­ty, test­ing the author’s abil­i­ty to express inter­est­ing and mean­ing­ful ideas in an extreme­ly con­fined space.   (Wikipedia)

I recent­ly came upon a fold­er with about 100 pages of drab­ble.  I thought I would share them.  I’ve been review­ing them and using them to guide my cur­rent work.  I thought I would share them.

THC: B — Drab­ble #1

I saw you talk­ing to that duster,” said Nguyen.

I said noth­ing.  Couldn’t I talk to who I please?  Did I need his per­mis­sion, his approval?

Do you use dust?” he asked con­fi­den­tial­ly, lean­ing in.  I could smell the gar­lic from his last meal.  “You can tell me.”

I stopped, the com­bi­na­tion to my lock­er only half keyed in.  My heart raced and it took me a moment to under­stand why.

I don’t recall the moment when I reached out, tak­ing hold of his shirt.  “When will your jeal­ousy dry up?” I hissed hot­ly.

When you admit what you are.”