An ostrich, a penguin, and a barn swallow walk into a bar.
The ostrich and the penguin seem uncomfortable. “Are birds like us allowed here?” they ask nervously.
“Follow my lead,” says the barn swallow. “No one will bother you as long as you sit at the bar ‘n’ swallow.”
This story is based on a prompt suggested by @Matt_LRR.
Today www.GeekingOutAbout.com shared a guest post I wrote for them, about my experiences writing fifty-word stories and some of my other favourite microfiction formats and websites. This post has taken a little while to put together, and to find the right timing for sharing it, but I’m really excited to get it out there for people to see, and GeekingOutAbout is a great place to post it. Head over there to get some insight and recommendations from me, including an excerpt from the Tips and Tricks section of Fifty-Word Stories: Volume One.
In addition to sharing my guest post, GeekingOutAbout is also running a 50-word story contest, to celebrate their one-year anniversary (congratulations, by the way, guys!). The details are all here. The best three stories sent to geekingoutabout@gmail.com by May 31 will win a free Fifty-Word Stories: Volume One ebook bundle, and the first-prize winner will also receive $25 to the online retailer of their choice! That’s a pretty awesome prize, in my opinion, so get writing, and I can’t wait to see all of your submissions.
“Look at that!” says Bandylegs.
“I know. Children don’t believe anymore and now the grownups are melting us down and squeezing us into those!” Pinknose says, pointing to a bottle. “And look, they’ve even put our names in plain view!”
Next to the sink is a bottle of Fairy Liquid.
Martin Shone is a cleaner who is getting very close to being fifty, but he’s only twenty-eight, really.
A final luxury granted to the condemned: “How would you like to go?”
He contemplated deeply, finally requesting the warm numbness of hypothermia.
In this land of sun and sand, his choice spoke to a greatness of spirit that moved the tribunal’s hearts.
But it didn’t move them that far.
Today’s story is based on a title suggested by @stealingzen.
There were no keys to the city, boisterous parades, Nobel prizes, or television interviews for the man who conquered friction. (His call-in to local radio was unrelated.)
Hal Miller’s millstones, which once kept the whole neighbourhood awake, were now silent, and also completely ineffectual.
Too bad NASA never followed up.
This story was based on a title suggested by @ecocd.
She knocked on the door, then nocked an arrow.
“Greetings, homeowner,” she said. “Would you like to sign our anti-longbow petition?”
“Uh, sure,” said the citizen. He signed. Then she shot him in the leg.
“Thanks,” she said. “Register your assault charge with the police to help advance our cause!”
Life on the river held steamboats, catfish, bluegrass, and plenty of other Tom Sawyerisms, too. But flash floods, sunburns, and Aunt May’s colon-clogging cornbread made life difficult for Franklin Waters.
He solved the third problem by tossing her into the first, but never got a handle on the second one.
He just can’t leave, thank God. He loves me too much, knows how much I need him. The vet said he’d be long gone by now. Months ago, in fact. There was no hope. What better way to prove them wrong than to simply thrive, living on love and devotion?
M. Elaine Moore is a North Carolina-based fiction writer and poet. Her work can be found in print in The Island Breeze, and Outer Banks publication, and online at Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Four and Twenty, and The Camel Saloon.
Two rectangular prongs and one round prong. Perfection.
Joe had worked at Hob’s Hardware long enough to know that, at least. These three prongs were the holy triumvirate, the electron bearers, the voltage senders, the ohm inducers.
In these troubled days, that was all he was truly certain of anymore.
Shouts were heard. There were tears streaming left and right.
Her eyes held a look of exasperation and urgency. She sprinted for her life. Time was running out. Was she going to make it?
Three, two, one…
Ding!
She grabbed the hot dish and handed it to her hungry daughter.
Connor Wright is a seventh grade student who passionately loves to write and is intrigued by 50-word stories.