“I dare you.” Three words and you could make me do anything.
“I’m not afraid.”
Inside, shouting, our voices echo. Brothers, best pals in the world.
A noise spooks us; running home.
We stop and you laugh.
You’ve lost that cap you always wore. I’m not going back for it.
Fraser never did get his hat back, but it looked stupid anyway. Sometimes David wishes they were still best pals in all the world.
My pillow greets me
My soft slumber
Recalls romantic memories
My soul whispers…
She finds my pillow
Entangles my dreams
We land eyes
walk within a summer’s breeze
Our hearts embrace
A moment held
Melt our reality
Will grace the earth
Fifty words is such a challenge. Patrick hopes to improve.
The baby dolls go with her everywhere. She cuddles the pale-faced one and croons, “Wittle sweet,” then kisses the dark-faced one and sings, “Wittle deaw.”
Everyone asks me why her babies have different skins.
I shrug. “She loves babies of all kinds.”
Why, they wonder.
I ask myself, Why not?
Rachelle Dawson is a wife, mama, and writer who loved books and baby dolls as a child. Now that she has her own children, she is rediscovering the delight of children’s literature and short stories. You can find more of her work at WritingRachelle.com
It’s Friday. I’m meeting the love of my life, the one and only. It’s 9:50 PM, almost 10. All is prepared. I’ve waited for so long.
Suddenly the bell rings. I’m nervous but I open the door.
“So beautiful!” I think. It’s there looking at me.
Pizza, I love you.
Berta Torras Febrer and Génesis Chamaidan Panchana are students of an English Academy in Barcelona, Catalunya. They are both 16 years old and they study at Sant Miquel dels Sants High school. They are into music and want to become singers. This is their first 50-word story.
In the morning fog, the ocean bleeds into the sky like a watercolor painting. Below, Daeidra walks the sandy shore alone. She has forbidden me to accompany her.
A solitary tear trickles down my cheek as I watch her embrace the waves and dissolve into a spray of sea foam.
Devon R. Widmer is a grumpy graduate student by day, a scribbling daydreamer by night, and a sleep-deprived parent full-time.
Cuddles. An order.
Cuddles? The robot paused, processing.
A brief demonstration.
A jerky imitation. Processing again.
I do not understand. You want to remain in contact with my exterior form. Why?
The question hung in the air.
Perhaps a chemical analysis of oxytocin was in order.
The thought of a fledgling artificial intelligence trying to learn the ways of humans has always amused Jenora. This is a story about the merging of the undefinable with the empirical. If you’d like to see more of Jenora’s work, pop along to her website at openingdoorsofperception.com
After two years longing for her love, finally she loved him back. Their last encounter was really painful:
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yes. Would you give me a kiss?”
And so she did.
He stared at her picture and sighed. His little toddler niece was turning three in April.
José Jaime is a Spanish guy who misses his nieces.
She was living in darkness; he introduced her to sunshine. But in the light she could see the darker side he was trying to hide.
She didn’t know whether the future would be different or a replica of the past; she was trapped amidst the present, which was fading fast.
Preeti Singh is an Indian French Interpreter and Media Professional who is engaged in writing scripts. In her free time she loves to play sundry characters for television series.
You were my rebound love.
You galloped into my heart with flanks rippling.
It wasn’t long before our hearts beat wildly and our bodies entwined.
Surprisingly, it took a while for reality to set in and for me to know that you, the ferocious stallion, didn’t know love at all.
Pat St. Pierre is a freelance writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction for adults and children. Her third poetry book “Full Circle” was published by Kelsay Books. Her work has appeared both online and in print. You may find some of her work at: Three Line Poetry, 50 word stories, Fiction 365, Whisperings, A Long Story Short, etc. She is also an amateur photographer whose photos have won awards and been on the covers and included in online and print magazines. Her blog is pstpierre.wordpress.com
Barry had two left feet. No girl would dance with him twice.
Susie stood forlornly by the wall. She blushed when he asked her.
When the music started, she trod on his toes, and he apologised.
Years later, they reminisce about their first and last dance, still in perfect step.
K. S. Dearsley has an MA in Linguistics and Literature and has had
stories published on both sides of the Atlantic. She lives in Northampton, England, and when she is not writing, she lets her dogs take her for walks. Her fantasy novels are available on Amazon. Find out more at ksdearsley.com.