“Grapplin’ hooks, skeleton keys, guard uniforms… I got everythin’ you need, man.”
“You charge a lot, Skivvy.”
“It ain’t easy to get stuff like this into my cell.”
“True dat.”
“But let me tell you, gettin’ nabbed for murder’s the most profitable thing I ever done. I’m makin’ a killing!”
I’ve been tinkering with various elements of the site over the past week or so, as you may have noticed. A few new social media tools are available on the site, so you can more conveniently tweet your favourite stories or share them on Facebook or StumbleUpon. The more you share, Like, tweet, or comment on stories, the more other people will take notice, so I really appreciate it.
I’ve also created an official Fifty-Word Stories fan page on Facebook, so you can get site updates and participate in calls for story prompts or any future contests in more ways. Head over and “Like” the page to get the updates and share the site with your friends.
Finally, I created a Top Stories page that lists the 50 highest rated stories that have ever been posted on the site. The tab in the sidebar only shows 10 stories, and only includes stories written in the past year, so I figured this would be a good chance to expose readers to popular stories from before they found the site. I hope you enjoy this feature and work to get your favourite stories voted up the list!
An apple and a pear fell in love.
They knew it was unusual, but they wanted to make it work, and the wise old hummingbird knew how they could.
They scattered their seeds all around the orchard, and when the trees grew they grafted branches onto one another and lived forever.
He’d killed his first outlaw after drinking bourbon for breakfast; it had become part of his routine.
For similar reasons, he drank saké for supper and lemonade for lunch, though he didn’t much advertise the latter.
One time he swallowed mud at midnight, so he let the train robbers go.
This story is based on a title suggested by the ever profuse @MisterFiendZero.
I’ve been working hard to get the fifty-word stories book ready to go on sale, and it’s very, very close! In fact, it’s so close that I’m able to give you a preview of the book’s contents right now.
To check out the free preview of Fifty-Word Stories: Volume One, click here. You will need the free Adobe Reader program to view the file, which includes the book’s Table of Contents and Introduction, as well as the first few stories.
Bear in mind that the contents of the book may still change before the book is made available for purchase. This preview may not be a perfect representation of what the end product will look like.
Comments are welcome!
“Sink or swim” was not a particularly relevant idiom for Nelson the narcoleptic turtle. He floated, and good thing, too, or he’d probably fall asleep, sink, and die. Instead he just bobbed along on the surface, snoring softly.
One day Nelson floated ashore and fell asleep there.
Narcolepsy is boring.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Vanguard1219.
Because I am an angel, you said you believed in them, and so I believed in you.
Yet here at the door of death who should come for you but Him.
The light of your love for me outshone the darkness in your soul.
And for that we are doomed.
Editor’s Note: This story grows on me a little more each time I read it, as I start to tease out more meaning from each sentence. At first it was an enigma, and now I find it appealingly haunting. I recommend coming back for a repeated read later, so you have time to explore and digest it.
Tammy’s poem “Twas the Night Before Blood Moon” will be published in Pill Hill Press’s Leap Year Edition of Daily Flash 2012: 366 Days of Flash Fiction, and she is a proud mother whose son is the joy and light of her life.
Thrashing through the midnight darkness,
he stumbled
but did not cry out.
Silently he lay
listening to silence.
Then he fumbled
in his pocket
for a match.
In the flame’s flickering glow, he was struck
by irony
and the traitor’s arrow.
He had assumed
he would die
by the sword.
The emperor, being in a good mood, invited a peasant to ask him any question he desired.
“What,” inquired the peasant, “is your favourite body part?”
The emperor circumspectly intoned, “My knee!”
That is why the revolutionaries severed it from his leg and mounted it here, on this pedestal, in 1747.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Graham_LRR.
Sydney the snake slid down a slippery slope.
Since getting stuck in a snare made of sticks and some string, she’d somehow succumbed to an embarrassing, sibilant stutter. She was sneakily slithering in search of a slimy, secret spot where she could sink into obscurity.
Sadly, she never found it.
This story was based on a title suggested by @danzama.