A bubbling creek wended its way through the sun-dappled wood, between the wild apple trees and the bushes drooping with juicy purple berries.
An inquisitive fawn dipped its tongue into the creek and pulled away with a frightened bleat.
Upstream, where the beavers built and warred, the bricked-in bayou boiled.
It made me mad that I couldn’t hide my sadness from them.
As the sun transformed my smile and let me age prematurely, I couldn’t forgive them for already moving on.
My last thought when my coal eyes hit the ground? “You little rascals will know the feeling soon enough!”
Originally from Germany, Tine moved to California about a year ago. Since then she has become a full-time mom taking care of a four-year-old chatterbox, which makes the fifty-word story a perfect format for her.
Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope and pray that you had time to relax and enjoy family and friends, and to remember what Christmas is really all about.
Christmas means, for this site, that another calendar year is nearly over. This year I finished my first year’s worth of stories, took a hiatus, came back refreshed, and have been going strong on Year 2, which started July 5. I’ve been fueled by all of the comments, star-ratings, suggestions, title submissions, and retweets supplied by everyone who reads the stories on this site. Thank you so much to everyone who provides me with feedback and reader interaction! It’s a huge encouragement, and it’s the reason I write.
I had hoped to have the Fifty-Word Stories book out this year at some point, but unfortunately a variety of circumstances have prevented that. I’m expecting to have the book ready some time in January or February, though, so even though it won’t be a Christmas present, you’ll still have a chance to get some microfiction in paper form for your shelf, your coffee table, your bathroom, your ceiling, your front door, your fireplace, or wherever else you may want to put it. The draft copy I received has been getting pretty positive reactions, especially from people who haven’t been following the website for the past year-and-a-half, so I’m feeling pretty good about how this is going to turn out, and I think it will make a good gift, for yourself or for people you know.
I have some other thoughts and plans for the coming year, including another Mere 50 Words guest-submission contest, live-writing events, site enhancements, a possible return to nanofiction, stories from special guests, and as much reader-interaction as I can make available. I want to break out of the box a little and make this a unique and interesting year.
I’m excited about 2011, and I hope you are, too! Keep on reading, and I’ll keep on writing…
Rudolf hopped on one foot, pirouetted, leapt to and fro, wiggled his hips, do-si-doed, executed a graceful plie, moonwalked, discoed, waltzed, two-stepped, wriggled like a worm, jigged like a hillbilly, and slapped his knees, but no matter what he did, it kept snowing.
Apparently he wasn’t a raindeer after all.
There was a man at the corner with one third of a hat and half a pair of shoes. I offered him my boots. He sold them to a homeless guy for ten bucks and gave the money to a woman at a bus stop.
I really liked those boots…
Alternate Version:
He stood there on the corner, with tattered hat and coat. His backpack overflowed with toys that he was handing out.
His shoes were only halfers: they covered just his heels. I offered mine, but he declined, ungrateful little eel.
He made me feel guilty, and guilt is not genteel.
This story, and the supplementary poem, were inspired by a title suggested by @hexapodium.
I want to eat my flatmate
I think he knows it, too
He watches me suspiciously
Whenever we buy food
It’s happening tomorrow
I’m going to boil his head
Wait: is this a man-shaped pan
Hidden beneath his bed?
I want to eat my flatmate
He may eat me instead
This story/poem is based on a title suggested by @big_poppa_G.
“Oh man, I am in so much trouble,” he gasped.
He thought he’d slept in past his wedding ceremony. It was the worst feeling of his life.
“Don’t worry,” said his fiancée when he called her. “You didn’t ruin the wedding. I found a replacement groom. You’re off the hook.”
You tell me that I’ve changed,
My priorities rearranged.
Did you ever really know me
At all?
It’s been a long time
Since you swept me off my feet.
But I won’t admit defeat.
I have faith enough for both of us.
That’s the one thing that’s never changed
At all.
J Dianne Waye found a link to Fifty-Word Stories on Kelley Armstrong’s writing forum. She isn’t the first to submit a story because of that link, and hopefully she won’t be the last!
Chocolate brownies are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Chewy cookies are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Insane asylums are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Exploding fireworks are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
Repetitive statements are delightful. But not with nuts in them.
She’d planned to make the most dramatic appearance of all time, bigger than Blücher at the Battle of Waterloo, bigger than Santa on Christmas Eve, bigger than Uncle Joe at her 18th birthday.
But she was a full day late.
When teleporting onto a moving ship, that’s a significant problem.