Readers seem to enjoy these, so here’s another handful of fifty-word fiction pieces.
Lint
The last things she’d washed had been his: shorts, socks; the slate-colored sweatshirts he wore to bed in winter, neutral and identical as prison uniforms. She pulled grey fuzz from the dryer screen, and rolled it into a soft bullet. Ten years of love, reduced to a handful of trash.
Surprise
He came home early; an unfamiliar car was parked. He saw a light flare and dim upstairs. He sat watching the house, his fists clenched.
She turned down the lamp in her son’s room, and smiled at the babysitter. “He doesn’t know I’ve planned this,” she said. “It’s our anniversary.”
Destroyer
He couldn’t have said when he first noticed the hairline crack. It looked like someone had drawn a line on her shoulder with a ballpoint pen. He pressed on it slyly when she slept, and watched its insidious spread and blossom. And yet he professed surprise when she fell apart.
Morning
His hand trembled as he drew the blade across his face, destroying the evidence of another day passed, another night. Her pillow was dented, and he laid his cheek against it, wondering if her warmth remained. There was no warmth – there was nothing but a stain from his aching skin.
Declaration
She held her secret tenderly in the palm of her hand, sheltering it, warming it for a moment before she took a deep breath and blew it into the wind. She waited, expecting a bird, a butterfly, a fragrant blossom. Drops of cold rain fell upon her hair. She waited.
Reprieve
She had known he would notice the bruise, a dirty smudge against the white skin of her thigh. He didn’t ask her how it had happened. She shuddered as he traced its outline with his fingers and the tip of his tongue. Perhaps he felt she had already suffered enough.
Cannibal
When he kissed her for the first time, she was surprised at his passion; his mouth was thin, ascetic, and did not hint at his hunger. As his lips enclosed hers, she sensed his greed. He meant to strip her bare; then, sated, he would spit out her bleached bones.
Power
The pale coral blossoms of her nipples contract to pointed buds of desire. She opens to him, wet and silky around and beneath him, her soft arms around his neck, her warm lips against his ear. He holds his breath, a little fearful of being so much at her mercy.
Idol
He bowed deeply when she entered his domain, and showed her to the marble altar where she was to stand. He gave her a gold-embroidered silk gown to wear, and a diamond crown. Each day he knelt reverently before her. He was astonished when she leapt down and ran away.
October 7, 2008 at 10:19 pm |
This was a great project. I enjoyed it, so keep up the good work.
Terri
Creativesouls.wordpress.com
Coach for artists and writers
October 7, 2008 at 10:56 pm |
Nicely done. Fifty worders are a great way to hone word economy skills. I haven’t written any in a while. I should write some. Fifty worders are about all I have time for.
October 7, 2008 at 11:20 pm |
These are fantastic. I absolutely love these and find them very very emotive.
I did a series of 100 word dabbles (sadly lost to miasma now – or maybe not sadly). I was surprised how easy I found them given that I tend toward wordy, but it was very easy and good practice.
I have never tried a fifty-word challenge. What’s the intent? I might test myself though you set a high bar. I’m very impressed with your skills and your evocative talents.
October 7, 2008 at 11:55 pm |
Steph — I wrote a whole bunch of these a couple of years ago, strictly as a series of style-streamlining exercises. The “rule,” if there is one, is simply to try to tell a whole story in exactly fifty words. Some of these work on that level, and some really don’t.
October 8, 2008 at 2:25 am |
I wanted Surprise to keep going.
October 8, 2008 at 5:24 am |
I really enjoyed reading these……I haven’t read your fiction before. Destroyer is wonderful, my favourite. You write flash fiction very well……which doesn’t surprise me at all now I think about it *grin*.
October 8, 2008 at 10:49 am |
Oh! I have missed these. You are the master.
October 8, 2008 at 11:06 am |
Still love these. I never read the first one before though–nice.
October 8, 2008 at 7:50 pm |
The fifty words fell on to the floor and lay scattered about at random. They kept gathering themselves up and trying to form a story. Each time they thought they had “made it” and formed a whole greater than the parts, they broke up into confusion again. Except this time.
October 8, 2008 at 8:52 pm |
Thank you so much for bringing these back, David. I do love them.
October 9, 2008 at 12:49 am |
Damn, you’re good.
October 9, 2008 at 9:44 am |
Love ‘em, love ‘em, love ‘em! God, I’m so jealous!
October 10, 2008 at 8:55 am |
These are scary good. I’ve read ‘Destroyer’ before. It made me shiver then and now.
October 11, 2008 at 1:28 am |
OUTRAGEOUSLY OUTSTANDING!!!!!
I love these and I am green with envy…when o when will I be able to do these with the ease and creativity that you do?
You are ‘THE MASTER’
October 11, 2008 at 4:57 am |
These are great. Am I right in thinking I’ve read some of them somewhere else?
October 11, 2008 at 10:06 pm |
Kick-a**!!! Thanks for the pleasure — having just hacked my way through Jane Austen for class, these remind me of her pleasure in painted miniatures.
October 13, 2008 at 5:23 am |
They’re beautifully expressed, with some clever and original ideas at their core (especially Surprise and Destroyer), but I’d very much like to read something from you on Joy.
October 13, 2008 at 11:49 am |
Trucie — I’m sure you’re familiar with the age-old advice to writers: “Write what you know”?
That would be why the theme you mention is so conspicuously absent.
October 13, 2008 at 11:50 am |
Pan — I published them one at a time (along with many others) on Gather.
Lori — Thanks … glad you enjoyed these!
October 14, 2008 at 1:20 pm |
David – I know. Give it a go, though. You might surprise yourself.
On the hand, it could be one of those times where someone says “Imagine yourself back in a time and a place where you felt completely safe and loved, your favourite good place” etc etc and you and I desperately scrabble around in our memory for such a place and come up empty.