Yay! I want the drabbles back! And daily prompts might not last as long as our years-long weekly ones, but no one will have to feel like they're putting in a bunch of effort without getting responses. Daily is a lot, so probably few of us will do every day's, but we can pop in and do one whenever! And if we just post whenever we feel like we have a theme, no one needs to feel all responsible for it either.

I really loved the drabbles here. Will people crosspost the themes over to the GWW lj?

Oh, yeah, and welcome Ice! A delurker and a writer no less! Yay for writing!

Wow. I have some serious exclamation point abuse going on in these posts. Must have been a lot of caffeine in the mocha I got at the new coffeehouse.

Welcome

Juggling her keys, purse and four days of mail with both hands, she opens the paint-scarred metal door. There's no light to greet her, the air is musty and the only sound comes from the steady plink of water leaking from the faucet above the kitchen sink into the stainless steel basin. The dining room table receives her purse and keys, the mail can wait until tomorrow. Toeing her shoes off under the table, she heads for the only thing that matters right now. With a flip of the lid, her laptop screensaver chimes and welcomes her back to life.

Oh, very nice, Sail! YAY! First new drabble!

Meant to go to bed an hour ago. Note to self: In the future, please attempt to remember that you don't write concisely enough to make whittling down to 100 words a speedy process, OK?

If I hold off on posting this now, though, I'll end up feeling self-conscious about it tomorrow. Sleep deprivation has its uses. 'Night, all.

Welcome to the Neighborhood

We moved to the suburbs, where cicadas sing accompanied by the hum of traffic from a nearby road.

I didn't know whether to relax or freak out.

A neighbor walked our dog while we unpacked. Three kids brought us homemade cookies. Later on others stopped by with brownies and a hand-drawn card.

I didn't know whether to relax or freak out.

Now I look out the kitchen window. I can see two backyards, three houses, and a street. Privacy fences are against the neighborhood rules.

They can see us.

I know whether to relax or freak out now.

Privacy fences are against the rules? But what about the nude hot-tubbing?

Oh. Did I say that out loud? I was in the moment. Well done, Ice.

Rubber kisses runway with a bark and the brakes slam on, engines reverse. The PA crackles and the easy, almost-bored voice says we're on time, and thanks for flying with us. We stand and step into the aisle, hauling bags and coats from overhead storage and straggle, half-steps forward. Thank fates and little fishes there's a gate, no down stairs, hiking across tarmac to more stairs, and then acres of concourse to cover. Gates are so civilized, when my knees hate stairs. And there, at the end of the concourse, with a mile-wide smile and arms outstretched, is our welcome.

oh, Beverly - lovely!

Privacy fences are against the rules? But what about the nude hot-tubbing?

Wow. Kind of a good news/bad news thing happening in my brain right now; you've got me picturing my neighbors nude.

I'm going to have to re-read just the drabble part of your post so I can walk away with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You made me think of flying home from college and having my mom meet me at the gate. Now I have to go call my mom.

I got the revised chapter 16 done last night. Chapter 17 is getting close, I added something new and hopefully interesting to that chapter.

I've got a lot of 18 in my head, I just need time to write it down. Chapter 18 will be one of those brand new ones.

Okay, my welcome drabble.

The lights are down, black and white images flickering into focus, music playing as small bubbles drift across the screen. As the stentorian voice announces that tonight's program will be brought to us by Geritol, the world's leading tonic, the lights rise to reveal the orchestra, all natty suits and gleaming instruments, perfectly Brylcreemed hair shining under the lights. We sit at tray tables, the foil peeled away from the Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes as their leader turns to us and intones in his uniquely-inflected voice, "Greetings, and what a lovely welcome."

Yes. Welcome to Anywhere, U.S.A. on a long-ago Saturday night.