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.”
Some peace at last! Love the sentence beginning with “All the debts...” - powerful stuff! I really like the way you wrote this, Geoffrey. I’m about halfway through season two of Ozark, and I couldn’t help but think of it while reading this.
Oh yes. I understand this mind set well. Sometimes death does seem the better choice when looking around at the madness of the world today. Excellent, Geoffrey.
Thank you, though to clarify my intent, I see it more as the character rationalizing the inevitable from their POV than a broad comment on death being a better option in some circumstances.
Fair enough! Thanks, Geoffrey. Something I often think about, as a writer: How many ways will this story be interpreted by my readers. That's why these comment boxes are so interesting. Happy writing!
This is beautiful, Sharron. I really like how you show us the two different personalities in this relationship. The rhyming is catchy, too! Excellent job!
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.
Love this! Do you read any fantasy, Chris? I recently finished The Lies of Locke Lamora. (Outstanding book!) He’s a master thief who wears many different disguises. Your story reminded me of him!
Oh, so cool., Chris. How many date-night masks have we worn, not having confidence in the one we had on? Makes me embarrassed to admit it, even to myself. Thanks for a very thoughtful piece.
“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.
Makes me wonder what other bizarre ideas of this ilk are roaming around in that head, Justin. Such a delightfully unexpected piece!
Haha! There are quite a few...they often pop up at random. Thank you, Sharron! 😄
This is such an awesome story! Well done, Justin.
Thanks, Dascha - a bit of a silly one, ha! 😜
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. 🤣)
Some memories stick with us forever! Thank you so much for sharing, Kim. And haha, too funny. Your note at the end made me laugh. 🤣
Well, yes, if that first tender kiss was between brother and sister, that would have been a completely different story, wouldn't it? Eeuuuw.
A lovely first. Thanks for sharing this, Kim. It brought me a smile, and then a laugh when I read your end bit!
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.”
Some peace at last! Love the sentence beginning with “All the debts...” - powerful stuff! I really like the way you wrote this, Geoffrey. I’m about halfway through season two of Ozark, and I couldn’t help but think of it while reading this.
Thank you, Justin! I really liked your story, too. There’s nothing like that jolt of electricity when you hear a great song for the first time.
Thanks, Geoffrey!
Breathtaking writing! Gentle, but deeply disturbing (which is a compliment, btw!).
Thank you, I’ll take it! 😁
Oh yes. I understand this mind set well. Sometimes death does seem the better choice when looking around at the madness of the world today. Excellent, Geoffrey.
Thank you, though to clarify my intent, I see it more as the character rationalizing the inevitable from their POV than a broad comment on death being a better option in some circumstances.
Fair enough! Thanks, Geoffrey. Something I often think about, as a writer: How many ways will this story be interpreted by my readers. That's why these comment boxes are so interesting. Happy writing!
Dark, but it says so much in so few words. Don's life laid bare at the moment of his death. All in 50 words.
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.
This is beautiful, Sharron. I really like how you show us the two different personalities in this relationship. The rhyming is catchy, too! Excellent job!
I love this. What a great poem.
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."
Love this! Do you read any fantasy, Chris? I recently finished The Lies of Locke Lamora. (Outstanding book!) He’s a master thief who wears many different disguises. Your story reminded me of him!
I do indeed! I'll check that one out!
Oh, so cool., Chris. How many date-night masks have we worn, not having confidence in the one we had on? Makes me embarrassed to admit it, even to myself. Thanks for a very thoughtful piece.
Nicely done! I can feel the relationship between these two.
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.
I'm really late to the party. Life's been crazy, but I wanted to write something for the prompt. Better late than never!
Loved it, Dascha! Thank you so much for sharing with us! 🙏
Thanks, Justin.
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.
Excellent. This expresses an entire cycle of emotion and self-revelation.
Living the contradictions!
Quenched and thirsty.
:)
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.
Yeooow! That last line is an entire story in itself. Especially for anyone who has been there.
This is really powerful. Thank you for sharing it.
Such beautiful and descriptive language, Amie! It’s amazing how vivid a scene you can paint in so few words.