“I think I dropped it over here somewhere. It might’ve rolled under something.”
“You should be more careful.”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know how it happened!”
“You’re so absentminded… What did you lose this time, anyways?”
“My brain.”
“What? Are you out of your mind!?”
“No, it’s out of me!”
“See, Ma? Nogard’s got the mange!”
“You’re right, Cliven. Why didn’t I notice before? Dear, poor Nogard. You must itch something fierce!”
“What should we do, Ma?”
“We could treat it ourselves, but it looks pretty advanced. We should probably call the Veterinary Cleric. I’m pretty sure he treats dragons.”
Crowded around the flickering television, they watched in rapt anticipation. Desire swelled in their chests; hope waxed and waned with every advancement of the ball.
Now, victory was at hand.
Now, all was lost.
Minutes remained; then Hooray! It was over!
The home team had lost; let the rioting begin!
The heifer chewed her cud. It was thicker than yesterday’s. Oh, what was that? There was something crunchy in her mouth. Cud wasn’t supposed to crunch. Had she eaten something unusual this afternoon? The heifer couldn’t remember.
In the farm house, George softly rubbed his bandaged stump, already plotting revenge.
“Harold, there’s a gorilla in the walk-in closet!”
“I find that highly unlikely!” said Harold.
“It’s a silverback! It’s grabbing my hair!”
“Don’t tell fibs!” said Harold.
“Ow, my arm! It’s hitting me!”
“Oh wait,” said Harold. He grabbed a dart gun. “Sorry, I was reading the insurance policy wrong.”
After disarming the bomb in the locomotive’s engine, Evan Edgelow fought his way to the caboose, where the hostages were. He cut the car loose and began loading people into the bus.
“Where’s my kitty?” cried a distraught child.
Evan reached inside his jacket. “Right here,” he said.
Everyone cheered.
Flashing lights seared his eyes; sirens blared in his ears; acrid odours assailed his nostrils.
There was a pressure on his chest, a rhythmic, thumping, crushing pressure. Something popped. A flood of warmth rushed through his body. His chest expanded and contracted spasmodically. He was dizzy.
He retched.
He lived.
Today, www.fiftywordstories.com officially starts updating with one new fifty-word story every single day!
The first story is scheduled to go up in the next fifteen minutes.
Are You Ready For This!?
Tell your friends!
FiftyWordStories.com is a project I’m starting as an alternative to Project 365, because I’m a writer, not a photographer.
My goal is to post one new, original 50-word story every day for a year. I won’t necessarily be writing one story every day–some days I’ll write more than one, and some days I won’t write any–but I’ll make sure one gets posted to the site each day.
Start reading here!
I’m not the first person to have this idea. For some other fifty-word stories, check out these sites:
http://fiftywords.com/
http://www.tangents.co.uk/50words/
There’s some stuff on those sites worth reading, but I think I can do it better and more consistently. We’ll find out one way or another over the next year or so!
Twelve days had passed since my enemies’ arrival, each day spent cowering in fear under a mossy overhang as projectiles exploded left and right. Brokenness and waste were all around me.
Today, I would fight back. I felt my weapon’s comforting heft, stepped out, and soaked my cousin so bad.