Season 2, Episode 9: First Time At Supper

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 9 for Thursday the ninth of October, 2025.

First Time At Supper

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Where is your tray?"

I didn't know I was supposed to have one. Everyone else is already eating.

She points, furiously. I scurry to the counter.

I pick up a bowl. A spoon.

The server stares at me, and I don't know what to say.

"Please?"

A grey ladleful lands in my bowl. Tentacles reach out from the thin soup, questing towards my hands.

I shriek, bowl sliding on the tray, liquid slopping over my sleeves, and stumble to a free seat.

Everyone watches me, spoons of broth writhing towards their mouths.

My supper heaves and frets at the bowl.

Season 2, Episode 8: It's Amazing What They Pick Up

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 8 for Wednesday the eighth of October, 2025.

It’s Amazing What They Pick Up

by Elizabeth Guilt

Grandmother always gave interviews from her chaise longue. She reclined gracefully, surrounded by framed playbills and photographs, hands stroking the sleek, velvet upholstery.

When the local vicar called, grandmother received him, tight-lipped, at her desk. He took one look at the chaise's brownish stains and threadbare patches and stood, awkwardly, while she lectured him.

I sneaked in for a story, and clambered onto the chaise.

"It looks different," I said, prodding the luxurious, puffy, pink cushions.

Grandmother laughed, and patted the wooden armrest.

"Oh, I took this chaise from the old Theatre Royal. It can play any part you like."

Today's story is dedicated to a chaise that lives at my local theatre. Last time I saw it, it was playing a sofa in a young woman's sitting room, in 1974 Sri Lannka. Next time I see it - if I recognise it - it will be something quite different.

Season 2, Episode 7: Heart. Beat.

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 7 for Tuesday the seventh of October, 2025.

Heart. Beat.

by Elizabeth Guilt

I'll make coffee before I reply to that email.

No, we won't consider a reunion. Granger is still dead.

They used to suggest getting some up-and-coming kid to fill in, or using drum machines. Now it's AI-powered avatars of Granger.

The band was the four of us and it meant everything. We can't replace him.

Most Friday nights, I pick up my guitar and head round to Jonno's. Billy brings his bass, when he can get away.

We sit round the piano with a bottle of whisky, jamming, playing our old songs.

Late at night, we still hear the drums.

Season 2, Episode 6: Safety Catch

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 6 for Monday the sixth of October, 2025.

Safety Catch

by Elizabeth Guilt

When the invasion came, we ran. We tried to settle, we ran further, we hid, we fought through snow, and ran again. Most of us survived. We tried to help each other, tried to reassure ourselves we'd be safe one day.

"What even is safe?" asked Asha, bitterly, as we watched the patrols get closer to the caves we'd huddled in for a week.

"Stories," said Mimi.

Asha's eyes blazed. "Stories?"

"Yes. One day, we will talk of something other than survival, and have room in our hearts to care about people we don't know. Only safe people share stories."

I am lucky: in my lifetime, my home has not been threatened by invasion. I've never been a refugee. Perhaps it is not like this at all.

Season 2, Episode 5: The Choir of the Lost

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 5 for Sunday the fifth of October, 2025.

The Choir of the Lost

by Elizabeth Guilt

When Kate ran, she ran hard, leaving behind husband, job, Friday yoga, and Bach cantatas on Wednesdays. Eventually, there was almost no land left and she slumped on a bench. Her tears blurred the poster advertising a singing group.

Kate - with nowhere else, with her voice that the Bach choirmaster described as "fair" - went to the community hall.

"Tea, love?" called a man, lifting a kettle.

"New, are ye?" asked another, spooning ravioli straight from the can.

She nodded nervously, seeing no piano, no sheet music.

Eventually, a song started. Everyone straggled into the chorus and Kate joined in, smiling.

Season 2, Episode 4: The Lemon Spectre

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 4 for Saturday the fourth of October, 2025.

The Lemon Spectre

by Elizabeth Guilt

On Saturdays, Bill spent longer than usual polishing the countertop. The Lemon Spectres, exclusive to the hotel, looked their best against the black marble - that faint luminescence, that slight haze clinging to the rim of the glass. The glimmering cocktail was a nightmare to make, and it cost a fortune. But it was endlessly Instagrammable, and that kept the fashionable Saturday night crowds coming.

"Can't you change the recipe?" begged Evan, the only other person who knew the secret ingredient.

"Not without ruining business, no."

Evan grimaced, picked up his sack, and headed to the graveyard to collect the spectres.

I don't actually like cocktails all that much - I'm more of a beer person. But some of the drinks I've seen served in London bars have been really visually impressive. And I don't think the souls of the departed are one of the things you have to disclose in ingredients.

Season 2, Episode 3: We Need to Increase the Budget for the School Water Feature

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 3 for Friday the third of October, 2025.

We Need to Increase the Budget for the School Water Feature

by Elizabeth Guilt

The three-field system was a way farmers grew food long ago. Amelia, we don't do that here. They used three fields: one for... Amelia! Don't wave that about! One for spring crops, one for autumn crops... Amelia, I've warned you already. One for spring crops, one for autumn crops and one to rest. Amelia! Turn George back, immediately. This helped the soil... No, the bell is a signal for me, not for you. This helped the soil stay healthy.... Class. Class! Amelia, come right back here. Class?

Ohh.

I'm sorry, George. Let's get you down to the pond for now.

I think I should acknowledge a debt to Joyce Grenfell here. I wasn't consciously thinking of her famous sketch when I wrote this, but I think one of the names gives it away.

If you've never heard "George, Don't Do That" I recommend looking it up.

Season 2, Episode 2: Choice

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 2 for the second of October, 2025.

Choices

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Expect the unexpected," read Melissa. "What does yours say?"

"Happy news is on the way. Oh god, I hope so. Anna, you haven't opened yours."

Anna shrugged. "I don't like them much."

Melissa laughed. "Literally no-one likes them. They're just for the message inside."

They were watching her, so Anna cracked her cookie open.

"Oh my god, Anna, it's blank! Ask for another one!"

"I don't mind."

They were always blank. Tarot cards blurred. Tea leaves formed perfect grids. Once, at a fair, the teller's crystal ball had cracked in two.

Anna smiled. "It's fine. I choose my own fortune."

Recently, Graveside Press - the publishers of my novella, A Mortuary For Songs - asked if I had any promotional items for other projects. I made some Drabbletober stickers. Now I'm wondering if I should have made fortune cookies. I really like the idea of writing deeply sinister fortunes to put in them.

Oh, and let me know if you'd like a sticker!

Season 2, Episode 1: Putting on the Razzle-Dazzle

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober Season 2. This is episode 1 for the first of October, 2025.

Putting on the Razzle-Dazzle

by Elizabeth Guilt

"You do know what 'Resistance fighter' means?"

"Don't really need makeup, do we, lads?"

"Your eyeshadow's crap, anyway."

So she explained - skipping the details of light-reflecting concealers, shimmering contour powders, AI facial-recognition algorithms, and the limitations of Government surveillance systems.

"My camouflage makeup means cameras can't process my face."

They made her walk through the Authorised Zone and a camera pinged immediately. She was arrested, and imprisoned.

The Resistance fighters fell about laughing when she came back.

"You? Again?"

She stared them down.

"That was to make sure the Government believes it doesn't work. Now we do it for real."

If you've never heard of dazzle camouflage before, I strongly encourage you to look it up. It was used on ships and aircraft around WW1 and was designed not to hide them, but to make it hard to focus on them well enough to attack. Wikipedia has some great photos of lurid paint schemes.

Bonus Episode 6: "Whispers"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode for the first of September, 2025.

Whispers

by Elizabeth Guilt

When my mother died, she gifted me a whisper. Her voice threads through my life.

You can do anything.

I inherited hers, too; the whisper she got from her mother.

A woman is as good as any man.

You can do anything.

They raised me after my father left. They were relieved when I finally grew tired of his bullshit and refused to see him again.

A woman is as good as any man.

My father also gifted me a whisper.

Are you sure?

My mother raised me strong. I can do anything.

You can do anything.

Are you sure?

Drabbletober will return to daily episodes for the month of October. If you enjoy these tiny stories, please tell a friend about the podcast - or leave a review, wherever you listen.

Bonus Episode 5: "Living on the Face"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode for the first of August, 2025.

Living on the Face

by Elizabeth Guilt

I stumbled blearily down to the water's edge. Which wasn't there.

My eyes snapped open. There should be... shoreline. Waves. A line of uneven wooden posts. We tied our boat up there. So did every other family. The lake couldn't be... gone.

I ran.

"Don't be ridiculous." Mum pointed, and there were the posts, and the lake, just as usual. And a mess of smashed wood swirling in the current. She dropped the teapot, hands flying to her mouth.

"The boat!"

My grandfather lit his pipe and shrugged. "You never listen. My stories are true. And the giant just blinked."

Bonus Episode 4: “Rapprochement”

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode for the first of July, 2025.

Rapprochement

by Elizabeth Guilt

Everyone remembers Gracie Carousel's wartime radio broadcasts. They cheered us, gave us heart. Even when her husband disappeared, she kept us hoping. Every day.

When Occupation ended, Gracie emerged from hiding, to universal acclaim. Then a newspaper finally found her husband.

They met, grasping each other's hands after twenty years. In front of a thousand reporters. she whispered to him.

"You're not my husband. You're taller. Who are you?"

"A resistance fighter who saw the real Gracie Carousel executed before the war ended. Are you going to rob our country of this happy ending?"

Together, they smiled for the cameras.

Bonus Episode 3: "How I Live My Life According To My Friend Simon's Advice"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode for the first of June, 2025.

How I Live My Life According To My Friend Simon's Advice

by Elizabeth Guilt

Simon once told me that you forget things when you walk through doors. I laughed, but he was right.

I started writing grocery lists in the kitchen. When travelling, I packed toiletries in the bathroom.

At work, I preferred to talk to colleagues at my desk so information didn't fall into meeting-room doorways. Eventually, I found it easier to work from home; catch up with friends over Zoom; order my food online.

I pulled my bed into the living room. Then my wardrobe, then a camping stove. A hose. A bucket. I sit at the centre.

And I remember everything.

Simon is a real person, by the way, although I don't think he listens to this podcast. He really did tell me about what's known as the Doorway Effect. I haven't quite reached the extremes in this story.

Not yet.

Bonus Episode 2: "Tea for the Dawn"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode for the first of May, 2025.

Tea for the Dawn

by Elizabeth Guilt

Dorothy opens the front door, and sighs. The other cottages - new thatch, smart paint, tightly-locked gates - are all dark at the windows. The village green is empty, and quiet.

Seventy years ago, there'd been crowds; everyone singing and cheering.

Sixty years ago, she'd stayed up all night, and stood swaying and laughing to watch the dancers.

Fifty years. She'd wondered if she'd ever get Annie to sleep with all that racket outside. Forty. She'd woken Annie up and they'd watched together. Thirty, twenty... People move on. Times change.

Dorothy smiles. raises her mug to the dawn, and welcomes the May.

It's the first of May. Across the UK, ritual dancers of all kinds will have been up at dawn to dance up the sun, making sure summer returns for another year. Don't forget to say thank you to your local morris team.

Bonus Episode 1: "Bruisetown"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is an occasional bonus episode, released because I felt like it.

Bruisetown

by Elizabeth Guilt

The town probably had a name on the map, but everyone called it Bruisetown. Its residents were pallid; blue stains across their cheeks, bruises ringing their necks and wrists and sullen eyes. Linger too long on the road, and mottled grey crept across the backs of your hands. Even the sea had a stewed, purple-green tinge.

Occasionally, someone made it out. They would win every bareknuckle fight for miles, taking punch after punch, then collect their prizes and go right back to Bruisetown.

Even stumbling from the ring, they'd stare at our unmarked faces, eyes full of nothing but pity.

Recently, I had to do some audio editing, and discovered I couldn't remember how to do even the basics. I thought I'd better put together a Drabbletober episode, just to check I could remember how. If you're listening to this, I guess I did?

Episode 31: "The Ghost of the Future"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 31, for Thursday the thirty-first of October 2024.

The Ghost of the Future

by Elizabeth Guilt

Peter shucks off the hated school trousers and shirt, and takes more comfortable clothes from the very back of the wardrobe. A double bedsheet, with neat eyeholes, completes the outfit.

Arms raised, the ghost checks carefully in the bathroom mirror.

"Going to the party?" asks Mum.

"Wooooo!"

"Very scary, Pete. Enjoy yourself. Be a good boy."

"Nooooooo!"

In the village hall, vampires and witches are already eating cake.

"Who are you?" demands Frankenstein's monster.

"I am the ghost of Sarah."

They laugh, and shrug, and call the ghost Sarah all night.

Under the bedsheet, she smooths her dress and smiles.

And that's it for Drabbletober 2024. If you've been listening for the whole of October, then thanks for coming along for the ride.

Episode 30: "The Gauntlet"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 30, for Wednesday the thirtieth of October 2024.

The Gauntlet

by Elizabeth Guilt

"Don't put that on, love. Nana says it's cursed. Or bad luck, anyway."

"Don't be such a fusspot! It's just an old glove."

She pulled the tatty old leather over her fingers. Her hand shot to her throat, pinning her to the wall.

I screamed, leaping to my feet and reaching for her wrists.

She spluttered with laughter.

"Oh, mum, your face! I can't believe you thought that was real."

She slid slowly down the wall, laughing until her face turned red and her eyes watered.

She was still laughing when her hand, still around her throat, began to squeeze.

Episode 29: "Security, in a Tuxedo"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 29, for Tuesday the twenty-ninth of October 2024.

Security, in a Tuxedo

by Elizabeth Guilt

They roared into the city. Literally - the cheapest transport in from the airport was on lion-back.

The bars were raucous. Sinuous snake dancers, monkeys pouring drinks with hands and feet, bunnies lounging lasciviously across laps. Bears kept the tourists under control. Just.

Only one spot in the busy centre was calm. Smart black-and-white waiters waddled, cocktail trays on flippers, up to marble tables. You could hear the ice clink as they set the glasses down.

"Why so quiet?" whispered one punter.

"Never underestimate these guys. And no-one wants to admit they were thrown out of a bar by a penguin."

One of the reasons I find penguins so delightful is that they always manage to look exactly like pictures of themselves - something they share with tigers, and pints of Guinness. It is a very satisfactory quality.

Episode 28: "Breaking the Rainbow"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 28, for Monday the twenty-eighth of October 2024.

Breaking the Rainbow

by Elizabeth Guilt

I remember him in kindergarten, throwing stones at the sky. Toddlers are all, at heart, destructive. But he asked strange questions when I taught weather systems in first-year science, and again when we covered refraction in GCSE physics.

He was seventeen when I caught him vandalising the gym.

"What is this?" I demanded.

He shrugged, sigils dribbling paint down the wall. "Weather magic."

I raised concerns with the school counsellor.

It rained this morning. I heard his voice, then I saw the sky shatter. His face drifted past my lab's second floor window as he ascended, blissfully, into multicoloured brilliance.

Rainbows are one of my favourite natural phenomena, and understanding refraction does not make them any less magical or mysterious.

Episode 27: "Flamingo Bread"

A impressionist image of a figure walking down a curved tunnel of trees. Across the top in yellow block caps, "DRABBLETOBER".

Hello, and welcome to Drabbletober. This is episode 27, for Sunday the twenty-seventh of October 2024.

Flamingo Bread

by Elizabeth Guilt

Whenever she talked about her childhood, Gran always mentioned flamingo bread, the best cake in the world. When she died, we found the recipe tucked away in her bookshelf. It had been a treat, when eggs were rationed; a wartime cake made with mayonnaise and baking soda and red food colouring. When we baked it, it was every bit as vile as it sounded.

Heraclitus said you can never step in the same river twice. Gran knew that. She kept her flamingo bread in her head her whole life, as bright, and pink, and delicious as it always had been.