Abby cried at Easter as a child, watching the family across the street. Grownups hid sweets around their property. Children searched. “Easter egg hunt” it was called.
Such a silly custom, Abby’s mother said.
As an adult, Abby visited her married sister, becoming the Easter bunny for nieces and nephews.
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. She delights neighbourhood cats with her singing.
The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
So she did. Blood surged into the air, splattering everything with
Rorschach patterns some detective would fail to analyze.
She pocketed the knife. No sense leaving it behind. Having an incomplete knife set would really drive her crazy.
Blaine scratched his head as the monitor stared at him in mockery.
Reducing his word count to below the allowed limit was practically impossible.
After inappropriately utilizing inordinate-amounts-of-hyphens-and-caffeine, as if that would help, he submitted his work, confident that he would win something.
Joey wasn’t interested in writing while at school but has been writing on his own in recent years, mostly to amuse himself. He has been published at The Story Shack and Needle In The Hay. He also likes roast cows.
James believes that animals don’t think ahead and simply allow things to happen.
Certain neighborhood dogs do seem to meet up at the same place at the same time each day. Their sheer punctuality has made James question as to whether he may be barking up the wrong tree.
Linda Nathaniel is a teacher from Sydney, Australia, who has had poems published in both Hemispheres and seen her play go from page-to-stage.
He revels in his mystic communion with wildlife.
Birds perch on his wrist and peck birdseed from his palm. A skunk visits his porch nightly to be petted. He hand-feeds squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, even deer.
Their trust in him is a blessing. He’s having rabbit stew tonight and venison tomorrow.
Alex Markovich lives in a suburb of New York with Jackie, his wife of 57 years and his toughest literary critic. His stories have appeared in 50-Word Stories, Blue Lake Review, Halfway Down the Stairs, Still Crazy, and other lit mags.
“Attention. We are genetic perfection. We abandoned our defectives upon this planet long ago. You are their ancestors. Children. We should’ve emptied the planet before we left. We apologize for allowing you to love for so long. We’re going to correct this. All of you, go to your loved ones.”
Ryan Joshua Ouimet wrote this story.
In many parts of the northern hemisphere it’s probably been spring for a few weeks, but here in Edmonton it’s just starting to feel like winter is truly over.
Let’s celebrate with a spring-themed 50WS contest and give away some gift cards for Amazon!
The Spring Stories contest will be open to your entries from April 14, 2014, until May 2, 2014. All submitted stories must be related to the spring season in some way. They can be funny, sad, artistic, adventurous… It’s up to you!
The best submitted stories will be posted to the site during the week of May 5 to 9, 2014, at the rate of two stories per day.
The best story from all of the entries will be posted as the second story of the day on Friday, May 9. The author of this story will receive a $15 Amazon gift card!
A draw will also be held for a $10 Amazon gift card.
There will be two ways to enter the draw. First, everyone who submits a story will automatically receive one entry into the draw. Second, another entry into the draw can be earned by either a) sharing a link to this contest announcement using the #50WordSpringStories hashtag on Twitter, b) retweeting the contest announcement tweet from @50WordStories, or c) sharing the contest announcement post on Facebook.
The winner of the grand prize will not be eligible for the draw. The draw prize winner will be selected using a random number generator, and will be announced on the day the grand prize-winning story is posted.
- To be eligible for this contest, stories must be received between April 14, 2014, and May 2, 2014.
- Stories must be related to the theme of “spring”. Stories not related to this theme will not be considered for a prize, but may be considered for later publication on the site.
- Submit your entry or entries to firstname.lastname@example.org. (Limit two story submissions per writer. Please send each story in a separate email. Story should be pasted into the body of the email.)
- The subject line of your email must start with “SPRING STORIES ENTRY” and include the title of the story.
- Stories must be exactly 50 words long, not counting title and author biography.
- Any stories received for the contest but not published during the week of May 5 to 9, 2014, will still be held eligible for later publication on the site. Entry into the contest does not guarantee publication on the site.
- All stories must follow all guidelines specified on the Submissions page. Please read this page before sending in your entry.
I look forward to seeing all of your entries! Let’s make this the best 50WS contest yet.
The stars that lie just outside the window seem so close, but as morning emerges from its journey the black abyss is taken over by the flaming sun, forcing the stars into hibernation.
Still the moon stays put, isolated in the bright morning sky, waiting for the stars to return.
Shardia enjoys writing short fiction stories.
Of course it was not a sensible thing to do. To switch or not to switch, that was the question.
Horatio’s successful twin brother suffered from dementia. Heartlessly watching his brother’s decay, Horatio wished he could be pampered, fed, lullabied and tucked in bed.
Just for a day. Or two.
Read more of Melanie Taylor’s writing at melanietaylorherrera.wordpress.com.
My birthday arrives with anticipation on a yearly basis. It keeps on coming even after 70 years. My birthday is less important than it once was. No parties. No cakes. Just well wishes.
Yet as I age, the number becomes important. Will I beat the usual life span?
Dave Thomas retired years ago and stumbled on this fascinating writing technique through Daniel Pink. Dave had never written before, nor had he ever been published. Just dreaming.