Write A 50 Word Short Story

[hermanlab]

“Tastes like sawdust,” he grumbled.

She sat silently, her bruised lip still throbbing.

“Gimme salt,” he ordered.

Her gaze was dreamy but her hand obeyed.

“I thought you’d like your mushrooms like that,” she softly said.

His fork paused halfway to his mouth. And as their eyes met – he knew…

[penrivers]

He bought the fanciest, expensive , powerful cells and smartphones.

Now he is sited in his sofa waiting for days the call of sombady. Patethic.

[SharkOnWheels456]

“Hey, do you think you could write a story in 50 words?”
“Probably not. Why?”
“I dunno. I just saw this thread on this website I like and I thought it’d be cool to try out.”
“I’ll pass. My story would be like the Sopranos finale and end in mid

[Lyander0012]

He bought the fanciest, expensive , powerful cells and smartphones.

Now he is sited in his sofa waiting for days the call of sombady. Patethic.

 

Ow, that stung. Haha, a powerful bit of prose, isn't that? Anyway, apart from a few grammatical/typographical things, there's nothing whatsoever to critique!

 

 

Anyway, here's a little something I dug up from before. I realize it's quite a bit more than 50 words, and I hope none of you mind my posting this:

 

"For every step forward they took, he took one back. For every time they looked at the sky with their bright eyes, filled yet with hope, he turned his gaze downwards, ashamed. For every laugh that escaped their lips, he stifled yet another sob. But this was all on the inside.

Outside, he walked with them, laughed with them, dreamt with them. On the outside, he was just like them.

But inside, he knew."

 

Cheers!

 

Kevin

[penrivers]

Thanks Kevin, I would love to be grammatically better in English, not perfect but better, lol, as a matter of fact I am not even good in Spanish grammar but lets keep tryin, you and me. Greetings from México.

[hermanlab]

“Dear Mr. Benson…”

Her fingers trembled on the paper.

“I have worked in your mail department for 20 years, yet you never cared or knew that I existed. But today you can do all the work yourself or see if it gets done without me.

Thanks for nothing.

Forever.

Pat.”

[diogenesNY]

Lawrence closed the office door behind him, being careful not to slam it.

"I quit!" he announced to no one in particular as he strode down the empty corridor.

"I know more about rockets than any of those third-growth McGovernites. Let's see them get to Neptune now!"

Edited December 20, 2013 by diogenesNY

[heymatthew]

Did you guys forget about this thread? Here's a recent one...

 

He had made the trip three times in as many weeks. Always thinking what a release death would be. Today it occurred to him that he never was quite sure if he hoped it for her, or himself. But he kept driving, tapping out the rhythm on his steering wheel.

[______Zaphod_Beeblebrox]

"50 words, write a story using only 50 words? I do not think I can do this. I mean if I had 100 words i think I could pull it off, but not 50.

 

Meanwhile across town, a man across town attempts to write a 50 word story. He fails."

[penrivers]

"50 words, write a story using only 50 words? I do not think I can do this. I mean if I had 100 words i think I could pull it off, but not 50.

 

Meanwhile across town, a man across town attempts to write a 50 word story. He fails."

".....When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there..", by Augusto Monterroso.

I think you can write a story of just one Word, it all depends on the cultural referents or memories of the reader. Its just the iceberg in us ¿ remember ?.

[______Zaphod_Beeblebrox]

".....When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there..", by Augusto Monterroso.

I think you can write a story of just one Word, it all depends on the cultural referents or memories of the reader. Its just the iceberg in us ¿ remember ?.

I think you misunderstand, the whole previous post was my 50 story. I was just rambling at first to take up word count so I can get to 50.

 

The point was to write a story in 50 words, correct?

[penrivers]

I think you misunderstand, the whole previous post was my 50 story. I was just rambling at first to take up word count so I can get to 50.

 

The point was to write a story in 50 words, correct?

Yep, you are talking about 50 words, not 49 not 51 and yes I was talking about 50 or less than fifty. I published here one or two stories with maybe 90 or 120 words, and never worried about how many, but I think we can excersize rigor and try to make it in 50 as you said. About the one word short story we see that when a sicologyst or neurologist or a neurosurgeon show a patient a card with one word and he has to develop a short story about it to see his mental conditions. As a mater of fact we don't need words to make storys, after all that's what Marcel Marceau, B. Keaton, Lloyd, Chaplin and many, made wonderful storys with mimics, remember the cliché in tv soaps "one blink is yes an two is no" and there goes the short story but in this case the interviewer propose it in order to investigate a crime or somthing.

[jvillan29]

Amazed how these instruments feels in my hand, like a weaponry of artistic value. Feeling like a drifter, WANTING to spend time and money researching for my next fp. Having the addiction of wanting to fill the pen, with a variety of inks of beautiful colors. Having the match of quality paper, so that the Nib can glide across the paper, forcing you to bring out your A game writing skills.

[BernieC]

It would come, he knew. Building slowly, sometimes painful but always glorious in the end. He filled the syringe with the warm liquid and reached for the belt on the table. The quick pinch of the needle and the journey began. This was to be a short trip for him.

[Abner C. Kemp]

I'll have a go at this.

 

The red ink represented all her dreams, her successes. Blue ink reflected her failures, her disappointments, her depression. The two bottles perched on her desk, she took a swipe with her hand, and the result was the murky purple mixture of her gloriously tortured life.

 

Fantastic!!

[Qfwfq]

I awoke. I shared the ambulance with a stranger.
Then I remembered…

“Oh God, oh God”, the man was panicked—I must have been bleeding.
He picked the bicycle off of my twisted leg.
“Oh Jesus! Can you move?”
I nodded.
In the distance, I heard my father’s scream. “Jessica!”

[inkstainedruth]

As I write, they're all somehow looking over my shoulder, editorializing. Mikey's whining that I'm telling it wrong. Moriarity insists *he* should be the hero. Greg? Muttering "You never mentioned THAT part!" And Dodger -- The Coyote -- winks and keeps playing his guitar. Stupid Muse.

Of course, they're also completely imaginary.....

 

Ruth Morrisson aka inkstainedruth

 

edited for formatting

Edited May 2, 2015 by inkstainedruth

[Venator]

Satisfied, she gently closed the careworn paperback and relaxed in her narrow bed. As the afterglow of a well told story faded, her reverie soured. No regrets, she tried to tell herself. She wondered where her children were and remembered with a pang that her mother had died alone.

[AAAndrew]

“Next! Name?”

“George Willard”

“Age?”

“87”

“Date of death?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ok, report to room 576A, Mr. Barrow. Got it?”

“576 A, Mr. Barrow.”

“Next!”

“Mr. Barrow?”

“Name?”

“George Willard.”

“Desired expiration?”

“Could I try freezing to death while drunk?”

“Sure?”

“Gotta be better than drowning. I tried that last time.”

“Approved.”

[AAAndrew]

This is fun! And I'm assuming titles don't count.

 

"The Journal"

 

A cup of tea cools on the cafe table.

As the pen glides across the page, ink paints his thoughts in spikes and swirls.

"Thump," the book closes before the lines are dry, marking a broken mirror image of today's pain on the back of yesterday.