Trying something a little different, Below are three stories, all Titled “Frozen”. They have nothing to do with each other, and all are Drabbles (Exactly 100 words). The first is a tribute to “Salem’s Lot” by Stephen King, one of my favorite books. The second is a tribute to the great H.P. Lovecraft. The third is just me doing what I do. Let me know which you like best. I’m really curious.

Frozen

Three Drabbles, One Title

Frozen by False Faith

Barlow held up his hands but spoke clear. Humor touched his voice as he did.

“Put it away… Face me with only your faith Fadder.”

The blue glow coming from ceramic cross trembled, as did the hand that clasped it. The crucifix, a gift from his mother, and once a talisman Callahan believed could turn away any evil, turned to dust as the hand of the vampire Barlow closed around the arms of it.

“So sad to watch a man’s faith fail him.” Barlow said. “The power, you see, is in the hand that holds it, not the thing itself.”

Frozen by Familiarity

A tremor, larger than the last, shook the foundations of the land but still, the people of Innsmouth remained unphased. Sources, always anonymous, warned of His coming. They said the end was near. The residents claimed these warnings were like moles, they came with the seasons. It made them easy to ignore, easy to pass off as superstition. Even when the sea rose far beyond high tide, the residents ignored the signs.  It wasn’t until the Whateley’s walked into the sea that they knew. They watched, frozen, until, in the distance, Great Cthulhu rose up, blotting out the sun.

Frozen by Futility

Snatches of poem, song lyrics, and the buzzing voice of the TV failed to deliver. He searched the web, analyzing the top stories and even those relegated to the back pages for anything at all. He’d had an “ah ha” moment before, and it had been good, but that feeling seemed so distant he was afraid another would never come.

Finally, disgusted with his search and unable to sit idle any longer he tweeted. “I need a writing prompt.” In minutes, he had 20. The writer leaned back and covered his tear swollen eyes. He couldn’t decide which to choose.

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