A Shovelful of Fifties
Five fifty-word stories
Breakthrough
Josie attacked others, picked at her skin, and howled at the world. “Morning, noon, and night,” her father used to say.
Not anymore.
When she arrives at the barn, the world instantly brightens. The universe aligns. Horse and rider become one.
And, with a click of her tongue, they’re off.
On Second Thought…
“Hmm,” Samuel said, watching the onslaught of snow. Hours of soul-draining toil loomed before him.
He set the shovel down, headed inside, and kicked off his boots. Grabbed his paperback and sat in the recliner.
Within moments, he was gone—worlds away. Venturing through a muggy rainforest at high noon.
An Elderly Woman in a Small Town on Thanksgiving
“Hello?”
“Hi, Donna. Is the family coming to see you?”
“Not this year.”
“Well don’t make any dinner plans, okay?” Francis said.
Later, the Clark family filed out of their house, carefully carrying steaming pots and glass containers.
When she saw her neighbors walking up the steps, Donna’s eyes glistened.
Distracted
When Daniel comes to, he blinks blood from his eyes. The teen unbuckles his seatbelt and crawls out the driver’s side window. He staggers up the embankment and sits on the dirt road, gazing at his father’s mauled Camaro.
Still in shock, he can’t recall what the text message said.
Landlocked
Some mornings, Stella longs for the sea. After she feels her way to the kitchen, she locates the hutch and takes out the small leather pouch of Doubloons. The conch shell.
Stella rolls the coins between her fingertips and holds the shell to her ear. The waves call her home.
Thanks so much for reading some of my fifty-word stories today. I hope you enjoyed them. Which one did you like the most?
If you’re interested in reading and writing fifty-word stories, please stop “by the fire” this Friday, February 7th at 3:00 PM EST.
and I have a fun prompt dialed up for you.Have a great week!
Prompt: Write a fifty-word story (fiction, poetry, or CNF) using the accompanying photo.
"Landlocked" is my favorite. I loved it the first time I read it, and it always resonates. I can picture the old woman remembering a sweeter time when possibly she had her sight and youth and happiness that is recalled as she holds the conch shell and thinks of the sea. Also, the doubloons make me think of Spain, so perhaps she is thinking of home.
Distracted by the light of a message from a distant Hollywood star crashes a 327 SS vintage Camaro just borrowed for a night with his gal that said she’d be late for their date could they meet tomorrow?