100 Words

At the end of 2019, I started writing short, 100 word drabbles. Just a piece of fun. Something to do on a lunch break, whilst sat on a bus. I’d grab my phone and go.

On New Year’s day, the sky in Wellington New Zealand became sepia toned. Fires in Australia sent huge volumes of smoke into the sky, and made their way across the ocean. I saw the sun that day, a bright red hole in the strangely toned sky. A warning. An omen for the year ahead.

I thought the omen was climate change related. By March it was clear that the COVID 19 pandemic could not be ignored, and the whole world changed much quicker than I’d anticipated.

In February, I hit my head and concussed myself badly. The road to recovery was several months, and for some time I couldn’t write at all.

These drabbles remained, staring at me every so often. Asking to be let out of my phone and into the world.

They are my time capsule from just before both of these events. A warning in their own right. A sliver of hope buried in the detail.