The 50 Word Micro Fiction prompt seems to have sparked something off in a lot of you and I’m happy to share the first 8 entries that have come in. If you would like to give it a go, please click on the June Monthly Mini Competition page of my blog and post an entry in the ‘Leave A Reply’ box at the bottom of the page. Happy bite-sized reading! :)
By Jane Dougherty
She took the dog out early as the first thunder growled, grumbling about the youngest who, as usual, wasn’t answering her phone. Kids. Never think their parents might worry. She stopped. In the gutter. Case smashed. With that cheery sticker on the back. The sky darkened; the heavens opened.
Nails, stiletto sharp, talons, digging, slicing, into their prey, into me, holding me close, tight, no escape, demanding, insistent, my back wet with blood, neck wet with blood, veins cut open, soft lips red, tender, hungry, devouring me, crying with need, moaning with pleasure, victorious, possessive, merciless, stealing my life…
An old man glares at the storm building on the horizon. Fishing pole in hand, he weaves his way toward town. Darkness leads to confusion. Doors are shut tight. Rain pelts his sparse hair. Coldness sets in as thunder roars. A park bench looks inviting. A long, cold nap ensues.
She finally had the strength to leave her slavery to be free. A freedom she was fearful to take back. It took all her courage to leave. But it didn’t last long. Unable to cause anyone pain, because of what she’d experienced, she again became enslaved to fulfill another’s dreams.
I heard his footfalls, as I do every day. He stopped in front of my cell and smiled his evil smile.
“Are you ready boy?”
“Today, I want you to write a story. It must be exactly fifty words and have a plot and characterization.”
“Damn you to hell warden!”
Life so far: born, grew up in a great old neighborhood of a steel town, attended a state college close to home, raped, bred, married, divorced, married now thirty years. I am a watercolorist, disabled; spouse an arborist, now disabled. Please like my words and art.
By Christie’s Fan
He stares at his school shirt. He’s missed a button.
‘Jack be nimble!’
He pulls up the zip of his jacket. It’s stuck.
‘Jack be quick!’
Everybody is far ahead.
He closes his eyes.
He had two superpower legs. He’d jump over the candlestick and many many heads.
By Sally Cronin
Head back he closed his eyes before take-off. He had made the biggest mistake of his life and lost her number. Sarah, she was the one and he would never see her again. ‘Would you like a paper sir?’ He opened his eyes and she smiled. ‘Fancy meeting you here!