Write A 50 Word Short Story

[Chris Chalmers]

After just one sniff - one quick look - one sneaky taste, she knew her life-long search for the perfect "Death by Chocolate" cake would lead her further.

 

If he can't bake a drop-dead cake they were forever doomed.

She should never have asked .........really and truly!!!!!!

[penrivers]

Saw the desert, the drought, the white tails and javelinas dying. Enough, said. Sold the ranch and bought an apartment in México city, in Polanco, you know.

Edited March 16, 2013 by penrivers

[WaskiSquirrel]

So I'm working on a novel. Oddly, an important scene in the novel could be rewritten in 50 words. I don't consider 50 words a story however.

 

Ian hobbled away from the man he had once called father. The man had no answers. He leaned on his crutches and looked at his shattered legs. They had paid for his new life.

 

Now he had a planet to govern and and problem to solve at the Yards.

 

I couldn't make exactly 50 words. I could go more or less, but never exactly.

[ImagineItReal]

She picked up the last box left in the garage. Discarding a lifetime was draining, but almost over. The yearbook flopped open to the page where his words first seduced her. If only she hadn’t been taken in by his charm, she might have lived her dreams instead of his.

[Writer44]

50 word short story.

 

I never wanted to be a bartender. I wanted to be a professional with letters behind his name.

But, my brother got himself killed and I got stuck behind the bar, wiping up other people's drinks, listening to their (bleep), and wondering what my life would have been like.

 

44

[penrivers]

It only needs imagination from ...the reader.

The most important writer of minifictions in Spanish that I remember was Augusto Monterroso, His classic was:

"When he woke up the dinosaur was still there", (cuando despertó el dinosaurio seguía allí), R. Bradbury or Stephen King would have like it.

"For sale, babe shoes, never worn". Thats another example of mini story with lots of iceberg down the surface theory from Hemingway.

Now , for me those are not vignettes but full short storys.

Edited March 18, 2013 by penrivers

[penrivers]

I found this today about Monterroso.

 

http://www.microsofttranslator.com/BV.aspx?ref=IE8Activity&a=http%3A%2F%2Fcultura.elpais.com%2Fcultura%2F2013%2F03%2F20%2Factualidad%2F1363766837_070794.html

[penrivers]

About Monterroso.

http://cultura.elpais.com/cultura/2013/02/19/actualidad/1361280449_343180.html

You can translate it with bing.

Edited March 20, 2013 by penrivers

[strunkl]

I'd agree that vignette is a more appropriate term. Aside from Hemingway's "For sale: Baby shoes, never used.", such short stories are rarely complete!

 

A favorite of mine. What economy of words!

[penrivers]

translated.

http://www.microsofttranslator.com/BV.aspx?ref=IE8Activity&a=http%3A%2F%2Fcultura.elpais.com%2Fcultura%2F2013%2F02%2F19%2Factualidad%2F1361280449_343180.html

[heymatthew]

Exactly 50 words... Weird.

 

"One day at a time," she said as she helped him into his chair and fitted his new legs onto the smooth, sutured stumps where his old legs once were. She turned to leave, exposing her disfigured face and neck, reminding him just how many drinks he'd had that night.

 

I'm not so good at story writing, but this is a neat exercise. Thanks for the inspiration everyone!

Edited March 21, 2013 by heymatthew

[ImagineItReal]

Exactly 50 words... Weird.

 

"One day at a time," she said as she helped him into his chair and fitted his new legs onto the smooth, sutured stumps where his old legs once were. She turned to leave, exposing her disfigured face and neck, reminding him just how many drinks he'd had that night.

 

I'm not so good at story writing, but this is a neat exercise. Thanks for the inspiration everyone!

 

 

For someone not so good at story writing, that is actually quite good.

[heymatthew]

Exactly 50 words... Weird.

 

"One day at a time," she said as she helped him into his chair and fitted his new legs onto the smooth, sutured stumps where his old legs once were. She turned to leave, exposing her disfigured face and neck, reminding him just how many drinks he'd had that night.

 

I'm not so good at story writing, but this is a neat exercise. Thanks for the inspiration everyone!

 

 

For someone not so good at story writing, that is actually quite good.

 

Thank you. I had lots of inspiration from you guys...

[heymatthew]

She hopped. Waited. Looked. Listened. Felt the five o'clock sun on her back and the Westerly wind tickle her quills.

 

Hop. Wait. Look. Listen.

 

Still again as the warm Westerly wind tickles her quills.

 

Hop. Wait. Look. Listen.

 

Such is the life of a bird with a broken wing.

 

This one's just shy of 50 words. You guys have really inspired me to look at my surroundings. On my way to my car this afternoon I spotted a small bird with a broken wing. I felt helpless and said a quiet little prayer for her. Not much else I could do, I guess... Anyway, I felt like the above was her story...

Edited March 21, 2013 by heymatthew

[atamantara]

Listening to "Cavern Of Remembrance" by Yoko Shimomura inspires me to write something like this

 

Vals de estrellas

La última estrella comenzó a bailar en una noche vacía. Silenciosa, sus delgadas piernas apenas rozan las telas del tiempo. Encendida, rasga con sus dorados dedos otras pequeñas luces, ocultándolas de la vista. Vuelta tras vuelta, la estrella fugaz continúa su baile en la noche muda.

 

The last star began to dance in an empty night. Silently, her thin legs barely scracht the fabrics of time. Bright, she tears apart with her golden fingers smaller lights, hiding them from sight. Spin after spin, the shooting star continues the dance in the muted night.

[heymatthew]

Listening to "Cavern Of Remembrance" by Yoko Shimomura inspires me to write something like this

 

Vals de estrellas

La última estrella comenzó a bailar en una noche vacía. Silenciosa, sus delgadas piernas apenas rozan las telas del tiempo. Encendida, rasga con sus dorados dedos otras pequeñas luces, ocultándolas de la vista. Vuelta tras vuelta, la estrella fugaz continúa su baile en la noche muda.

 

The last star began to dance in an empty night. Silently, her thin legs barely scracht the fabrics of time. Bright, she tears apart with her golden fingers smaller lights, hiding them from sight. Spin after spin, the shooting star continues the dance in the muted night.

 

Beautiful!

[StevenHu]

Hey guys, I'm fascinated with how much one can say with a severe restriction to what one can write. For example when I write letters to pen friends sometimes I will not allow myself more time than 5 mins on a topic, and if I can't say all I want to say about that in five mins, too bad. For the recipients especially Likewise, when I am stuck for ideas with writing, I like to try and write 50 word short stories. Every now and again I'll experiment with not using a certain vowel for a paragraph of writing.

 

Thought it would be interesting to see what others could come up with when writing a 50 word short story.

 

Here's one I did for this post:

 

He always had to know the answer to irrelevant questions.

"Do cat's always land on their feet? Always?"

And today was no different. He approached, his face pale, wearing a sickly grin.

"You know how cyanide, when swallowed, is meant to kill you in three seconds?"

"Yeah?"

"It's been sev-"

 

 

My first impression of the OP was that these would be writing exercises, not typing. Oh well!

[atamantara]

My first impression of the OP was that these would be writing exercises, not typing. Oh well!

 

...and I did write my short story before posting it at the FPN

[penrivers]

It happened late forties or early fifties, in San Jerónimo la Babia, Santo Domingo or one of those big ranches of 250000 acres from xvlll century right in the line among Santa Rosa de Lima (Músquiz), and Big Ben national park, he woke up early as 3 am in the morning, was his turn to gather the remuda, went to the old Stone corral and saddled his horse, when leaving, at the open door of the corral, he saw the figure in the darkness,long black hair and dressed with a cotton shirt

covering it from neck to barefoot swirling and spininround as he passed him, just a glimpse, so he didnt care or gave importance, but when he was riding looking for the horses he noticed somthing strange in the crupper, he turned around and he saw him, the long hair , the pale face, the empty sockets instead of eyes, he fainted, next day, cowboys found his horse and then him walking in the desert and talking alone, he spent some months out of reason but then he recovered, never went back to cowpunching.

[Joe in Seattle]

I want to die in my sleep, like my Grandfather, not screaming like the other people in his car.

 

19 words, one sentence.