I stepped on a spider. I felt bad, thinking I had killed him for sure, but by some luck or spider fu he found a crevice in the sole of my boot, and when I lifted my foot his legs uncurled and he scrambled off, both of us supremely happy.
Peter Schireson is a Zen Buddhist priest and writer living in the Sierra Foothills of California. His poems and prose have been published in a number of journals, both in print and online.
“You’ve had five years,” said Lord Gurgatron. “What have you accomplished?”
The little alien scientists beamed. “We’ve sabotaged many of the humans’ toilets to only flush halfway on the first attempt!”
“…And?”
“This will soon incite insurrection against their plumber overlords!”
“They are ruled by plumbers?”
“So our research indicates.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @RobertRacoon.
Have you entered the Pirate Week contest yet?
If you haven’t, here are some more reasons to do so! In addition to the prizes that have already been announced, the winner will receive a felt eyepatch and a pirate-themed corner bookmark monster, made by my friend Tally Heilke of I Could Make That fame.
I’m also expanding the runner-up prizes to include an ebook of your choice, alongside the Fifty-Word Stories ebook.
That brings our total prize pool to the following:
Read up on the full contest rules and enter now! The deadline is February 17.
Gina’s tea tumbled onto the floor. “Oh no!” she cried, reaching for the paper towel.
“Wait!” said Patrick. “The last time you dropped your tea, the spill looked like a heart, and you met your boyfriend later that day. This time, it’s…”
“Just a puddle.”
And then the basement flooded.
This story is based on a title suggested by @KingKool.
“Whoa, stop right there, bud.”
“I BEG YOUR PARDON.”
“You’ve got to wait your turn. Adolescence and young adulthood only just passed by. Middle age is up next.”
“BUT THERE’S ROOM TO FIT MY BICYCLE IN RIGHT THERE.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but in the parade of life, Death rides last.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @GreatTrollKing.
“Do you want to hear the good news first, or the bad news?”
“Good, please.”
“Okay. God sent His Son to earth to save you–”
“Oh, the Good News? Thanks, I’m familiar. High five, Christian buddy! What’s the bad news?”
“I, uh, ‘lost’ that ugly sweater you gave me. Sorry.”
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “the good news.”
The girl just could not dress for summer. Her entire bedroom knew. It’d seen the fustrated flinging of sundresses, the disappointed stares into mirrors and magazines.
Finally, one scorching morning, she found her usual glossy substituted for Scandinavian Housing Bimonthly.
She left an OxFam bag of ugly t-shirts and flew.
Jessica Croot is a 16 year old high school student currently in the process of obtaining qualifications and rapidly losing hope regarding her later life. When not writing stories consisting of precisely 50 words she enjoys writing brief biographies about herself (and reading).
“How did you do at the track meet, Johnny?” said Mom.
“I got one fourth and one second.”
“That’s wonderful, dear!”
Dad said, “Actually, he means he got a quarter of the way around the track, kept going for one more second, and then stopped.”
Johnny glared at Dad. “Spoilsport.”
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “one fourth.”
It had been snowing for hours, days, weeks. I stood in the window, gazing out at my quiet suburban neighbourhood, a world set on Mute.
I could still hear his last breath inside my head, even from beneath the snow. By the time it melted, I’d be far, far away.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “on mute.”
There is great power in a word. Your task, apprentice, is to unlock it.
Begin by deeply internalizing its meaning. Then divide its syllables, and unravel them. Only when you have delved to the core of every phoneme will you be prepared to bend the word’s power to your will.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “in a word.”