Crimson dyed the sky. A colossal, drowning black rushed to overtake it. Into the heavens two colors fought, masking bloody fires below. In time, I will forget the explosion, the names of the dead, even the blinding light, but the battle between red and black will own the skies forever.
Brandon Newman is a senior at Hunterdon Central Regional High School in Flemington, NJ.
“Among the demonstration events at these 2012 Olympic Games is Sleep Endurance: our two remaining competitors are nearly 48 hours beyond the previous world record.”
“That’s right, Jim. Wait, the referee’s signalling… It’s over! It seems the Brazilian competitor has died. ‘Snorebox’ Jones wins the gold! Let’s go awaken him.”
This story was based on a title suggested by @MetalTeeth9.
She was standing along the highway the first time I saw her, hair blowing freely in the wind. I thought about stopping to pick her up, but it was just a thought.
I’ve seen her six times since, always somewhere different.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
But only thinking.
This story was based on the prompt “by the road” on TypeTrigger.
“Road trip!”
We’d packed that hatchback so full of clothing, food, and camping gear that we could hardly buckle our seatbelts. We had no plan but “Go”, no destination but “Good times”.
We put the car in gear, and
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!!
all four tires burst simultaneously.
“…House party!”
What a mess.
Wish I’d known it was staged from the start. These fools must’ve considered me a pawn, thought I’d turn and run when the bullets started flying. I was their plausible deniability…
But life doesn’t follow anyone’s script.
I’d better dump these fools’ corpses before someone happens by.
This story was based on the prompt “it was staged” at TypeTrigger.
The plane descended back to his homeland.
His desert boots touched the tarmac, and he looked up from his sandy brim.
The cold nights with explosions that lit up the sky left him, and the warm nights with the ones he loved were waiting.
Michael D’Aniello is a high school student in New Jersey. His Creative Writing class was assigned 50-word stories and he felt this was his best piece.
Look for more stories from members of Michael’s Creative Writing class in the future!
The farmer waved as the hikers disappeared up the trail towards the highway. “Eighth lost group this summer,” he said.
“Ever get tired of this?” his wife asked.
“Giving folks directions ain’t no trouble.”
“I mean the farm, and never goin’ nowhere.”
The farmer shrugged. “Ain’t nowhere I wanna go.”
This story was based on the prompt “up the trail” at TypeTrigger.
“It was the gardener! J’accuse!”
“Uh huh,” said the unimpressed homicide detective. “On what grounds, ma’am?”
“My husband was killed with a garden hoe last night, was he not?”
“Uh huh. But the gardener says you just hired him this morning. Off a street corner.”
“The filthy beggar lies! J’accuse!”
This story was based on the prompt “the gardener” at TypeTrigger.
“I wish she’d come down from her ivory tower.”
“I doubt she knows how. I think she was born there.”
“Hmm, you may be right. That’s kind of sad, really. She’s like Rapunzel, trapped within an inflated conception of her own intellect.”
“Yeah, sure. Tragic.”
“Let’s go pull her hair!”
This story was based on the prompt “born there” at TypeTrigger.
We were lost in the enchanted woods.
“Some shortcut, Krayg!” Tixen’s green eyes flashed.
“Relax,” I said. “Krayg, find some kindling. Night’s coming.”
We huddled close around the flames.
“Now,” I said, “a spell to read the stars… Where did my wand go? Krayg, what did you use for kindling?”
This story was based on the prompt “in the woods” at TypeTrigger.