Fifties by the Fire — a fifty-word, prompt-based writing challenge. Feel free to share your response below, or read and comment to join in on the fun.
Prompt: Write a fifty-word story (or work of CNF, or poem) about a first. Here are some examples. A first:
kiss, love, dance, born, marriage, fight, drink, gamble, lie, flight, pitch, swing, shot…you get the idea!
Here are the other guidelines:
Make sure your piece is exactly fifty words. Feel free to use Word Counter or the word processor you use.
Write a title with the genre in the first line. (Example: Writer’s Block, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “While No One’s Watching” for our writing prompt.
John Lightle is a Texas writer, poet, and photographer who spends many hours sitting on his woodpile contemplating. When away from his frame shop, he schleps his artwork among area art shows. The job takes him across the countryside, occasionally overseas, photographing the quiet resolve found within the golden hours.
It’s true that I had the proverbial crush on the boy next door. It was with him that I experienced my first real kiss. My dad had put a tent in the backyard for me and my brother. A game of hide-and-seek culminated in that sweet and tender first kiss.
(I could have written a much clearer, longer story here, and had a time cutting it down to fifty words. I need to clarify that the kiss was with the neighbor...not my brother. 🤣)
“It’s not so bad,” Don thought, as his body descended into the ocean, weighed down by the cement brick attached to his foot. His arms flailed, then gave in to the numbness spreading across his body. All the debts, the lies, the violence, all floating away. “It’s pretty nice, actually.”
Sally sat on Danny's bed and watched as he prepared for his first date. He was frantically trying on his date-night masks; changing who he was with each one.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” was the only thing that came to mind. Somewhere between resignation and inspiration, I grabbed two more water balloons. Simply by moving with a different flock, I went from hunted to hunter. Somewhere between exhilaration and disgust, I gathered myself and walked away.
Your first sober New Year’s Eve. Desert air tinged with cumin from the post-race buffet—chili gone cold, stale Doritos, someone cracks a bottle of Cold Duck and—
you remember that first time you had a glass, fizzy pink bubbles swirling in your gut, another New Year’s Eve, thirteen years old.
First Contact, Fiction
Two men sat before complex communication equipment in a rather unremarkable office.
“Sir…you might want to hear this.”
The older man took the large headphones and adjusted them. “My God – Michael Jackson.” He started tapping his foot to the beat. “Thriller.”
Forget going platinum. The moonwalking megastar had gone intergalactic.
The Tent
It’s true that I had the proverbial crush on the boy next door. It was with him that I experienced my first real kiss. My dad had put a tent in the backyard for me and my brother. A game of hide-and-seek culminated in that sweet and tender first kiss.
(I could have written a much clearer, longer story here, and had a time cutting it down to fifty words. I need to clarify that the kiss was with the neighbor...not my brother. 🤣)
There’s a First Time for Everything, Fiction
“It’s not so bad,” Don thought, as his body descended into the ocean, weighed down by the cement brick attached to his foot. His arms flailed, then gave in to the numbness spreading across his body. All the debts, the lies, the violence, all floating away. “It’s pretty nice, actually.”
FIRST DOUBTS, poem
•We need to talk.
But there’s a summer breeze, no rain in sight.
Let’s go dance by the sea tonight.
•We need to talk!
Just let it go. We’ll be all right.
Please, I really don’t want to fight.
•It won’t just fix itself.
Well... you don’t know... it might.
The Last Night of the Many-Masked Man, Fiction
Sally sat on Danny's bed and watched as he prepared for his first date. He was frantically trying on his date-night masks; changing who he was with each one.
"I can't decide."
Sally shrugged. "I don't like any of them."
"None?"
She smiled. "I like the one you have on."
Discovering Sand, Fiction
Life as a spacer had denied Richonne many things, including beaches. Planetside for the first time, today she would remedy that.
She dug her bare toes into the grainy sand, loving the feel of it. Not ready to move on, she lay down, reveling in its warmth. The ocean would wait.
First and Last Time Traitor, fiction.
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” was the only thing that came to mind. Somewhere between resignation and inspiration, I grabbed two more water balloons. Simply by moving with a different flock, I went from hunted to hunter. Somewhere between exhilaration and disgust, I gathered myself and walked away.
Midnight Madness 5K || Nonfiction
Your first sober New Year’s Eve. Desert air tinged with cumin from the post-race buffet—chili gone cold, stale Doritos, someone cracks a bottle of Cold Duck and—
you remember that first time you had a glass, fizzy pink bubbles swirling in your gut, another New Year’s Eve, thirteen years old.
Such beautiful and descriptive language, Amie! It’s amazing how vivid a scene you can paint in so few words.