Ronette hated bears.
One sat on her convertible.
The bear rustled the bag of chips on its snout.
She threw some chips into the back yard. The bear went after them.
Ronette started the convertible and sped away, but stopped as the bear cub wasn’t in a child safety seat.
Greg X. Graves likes monsters, ghost monsters, alien monsters, beast monsters, and monster monsters. Read more about them on his site, www.gregxgraves.com.
Kieth leaned wearily on his mop. He looked up at the ugly contraption the whitecoats had so proudly built and intended to fire tomorrow. Kieth thought of the misery and death it would bring. Quietly, carefully, he removed a metal panel, tugged free some wires and snuck away a hero.
Alex Steacy is a member of Loading Ready Run and recently released a collaborative graphic novel called Shards.
Wouldn’t it be nice
if life
had handlebars?
A simple way to steer;
Something to hold
for balance;
A little bell,
to let people know
we were coming;
And a headlight
to help us see
the road in front of us.
Come to think of it,
how about some brakes?
This story was based on the prompt “handlebar” at TypeTrigger.
Joanna had seventeen seconds to decide: would she help herself, or help someone else? Which would it be, selfishness or altruism?
To her left lay the bike trail to work. To her right, a struggling local donut shop and the subway system.
Joanna turned right. Today, she was a hero.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Haberley.
Want a chance to win a free prerelease copy of the Fifty-Word Stories: Volume Two ebook? You have two chances to do so!
If you’re on Facebook, head over to the Fifty-Word Stories Facebook page and press “Like” on this photo.
If you have a Google+ account, click +1 on this post.
On September 10, I will do a separate random draw on each of these sites, and one Liker and one +1er will each receive a Volume Two ebook.
Of course, if you aren’t content to leave things to chance, you can always preorder a copy today.
Four flies met at a crossroads, each one travelling north, south, east, or west.
“East is amazing,” said one, “but I hear west is better.”
“South is supposed to be fantastic.”
“North, I’m told, is far superior.”
Each fly returned the way it had come, content with its homeland’s reputation.
This story is based on a title suggested by Mark McCarthy.
Bryson was just a dumb baboon. He knew nothing about radioactivity or mutations: all he knew was that the glowing green thing he’d eaten had tasted funny.
He hadn’t yet noticed the line of pebbles he was inadvertently levitating with his new telekinetic powers. He was just a dumb baboon.
This story is based on a title suggested by Kathleen DeVere of LoadingReadyRun.
Detective Cork eyed the plate of steak-and-mushroom pie, his stomach gurgling in anticipation. “Blarney, you havin’ sum?”
His partner shook his head, too preoccupied with the case.
Gold coins, a short man in green… What was the connection?
Outside, the sun broke through, painting the sky with a brilliant rainbow.
Jordan Sevenhuysen recently spent two months travelling through Europe. This story was inspired by his time in Ireland.
In Theo’s experience, when you showed someone a blindfold, they tended to interpret it in one of two ways: it represented either a game, or kidnapping.
The interesting part, to Theo, were those few wavering moments, as he tied it on, while they tried to decide which one it was.
This story was based on the prompt “a blindfold” at TypeTrigger.
Shawn worked long hours, and at home there were diapers to change, bottles to warm, and feet to rub. He had only four sacred, personal minutes each day to kick off his pants and relax.
One day, he was interrupted: “Daddy, I hafta gooooo!”
Curse you, potty training, he thought.
This story is based on a title suggested by Zach Denoncour.