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 (fiction, poem, or CNF) that falls under the horror genre. Write a slasher, a ghost story, a psychological spine-tingler. Write about a monster (real or imagined), an omen—a necromancer who wakes the dead. Take the prompt in any direction you like, as long as your response can be categorized as horror.
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: The Fire Tower, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “Auditioning for Alfred” 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.
I cannot escape. I see and hear them, the hunchback inventor of this vile contraption and his patron, the King. “So, the traitor cannot move? And I wind this handle?”. “Yes, my Lord, that moves the spikes”. The smile was cruel. “Will I hear him scream?” “But of course, Sire”.
Jules ran her fingers through the sea foam, lovely to the touch even if a bit stinky. The sun peaked between some clouds and highlighted something moving under the tidewater. Her first reaction was curiosity and second was to gauge the distance to the shore. She would not make it.
The poor creature hangs from the needle-sharp teeth of the Night Hunter. Near death, oozing blood, bones broken, the shrieks have mercifully ended. She carries the corpse to The Altar, in extremis, lays it down, gnaws off the head, licks her gory claws.
At last, she sleeps. Sulfuric breath rattles under her immaculate breasts. Her belly, swollen with hellish life only moments after their entwining, glows red. He hastily drags his pants over the scorched remains of his manhood. Fabric meets raw flesh, and he cries out in agony.
Thanks Sharron. The demon went through numerous stances / attitudes before settling on sneering. It’s always great fun identifying the appropriate word - even more so in a 50BTF. I’m glad you appreciated them.
He never knows which one he'll get. The one with the kind face and happy eyes or the one with raging eyes and horror on his face. The one smiling at him or the one who would tear him apart if he only could. - Beware the man in the mirror.
Thunder rumbled. The house in the woods was in darkness save for a dim lamplight indicating a lone occupant who had lived there all his life. Nobody ever discovered the whereabouts of nine missing schoolgirls from the neighborhood. Only Simeon Black knew, his eerie face illuminated when the lightning struck.
Anton had been gone for thee days. Everyone was looking everywhere for him. He’d never be found. The rapist had an underground chamber hidden in the forest floor covered by leaves and sticks. Anton could scream all he wanted. No one could hear. The chamber was so incredibly deep.
Face it. Meg Oolders wins this challenge hands down today. This woman pulls out all the stops. I sometimes wonder what else she has in that head of hers and I am not at all sure I want to know.
There’s no real competing with Meg, is there? She’s hands-down one of my favorite fiction writers on the platform. 😀
I don’t know if I want to declare a winner/favorite or turn this into a contest, though. There are a number of those types of events and spaces already. I like the community atmosphere and the encouraging spirit of all who read/write/contribute to Fifties by the Fire!
Thanks as always for being such a positive force and key contributor, Sharron! Wish we could all sit around an actual campfire sometime. Now that would be fun. 🔥
Oh boy, would it ever! I do know that these stories are a collaboration and not a contest. And I love it that every one reads and generously comments. It is so darned much fun! I think I was just gob-smacked by Meg's contribution today and still in shock when I commented. ha ha ha.
Haha, I completely agree. Some of these stories stay in my mind long after I read them...hers is one of them. And my goodness...I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out of my head. 😅
The bully leaning back, feet up on his desk, savoring twisted triumph, notices something scratching his ankle. A chameleon is climbing up his pants leg, doubling in size with every step. “WTF?” shouts the bully. “My name is Karma,” the reptile hisses through sharp, bared teeth. “We have a date.”
He woke. He knew something was wrong. It was moving. Whatever had bitten him was moving now, wanting out. Fear rose inside him as he sensed the creature turning, twisting. it pressed on his inner ear. Then the pain tore him apart as the gnawing began, pain you cannot imagine.
Iron Maiden (flash fiction)
I cannot escape. I see and hear them, the hunchback inventor of this vile contraption and his patron, the King. “So, the traitor cannot move? And I wind this handle?”. “Yes, my Lord, that moves the spikes”. The smile was cruel. “Will I hear him scream?” “But of course, Sire”.
Wow, Barrie - such a good (and disturbing) tale!
Thanks so much. I seem to have unearthed my dark side! Eek!
Oooh, That's good.
That's super encouraging, thank you Jim
Holy Moley!
A bit dark, huh?
I love this powerful, compact tale, Barrie.
A lot darker than usual but chillingly pleased with the way it turned out. Thank you so much for the encouragement, Bill.
That gave me the shivers.
I'm delighted, thank you ... just testing out my 'dark side'
Join us. We have cookies! XD
mwah hahahahahahaha!
🤣🤣
A very bad day to be a traitor.
Traitorous behaviour had spiked in the weeks leading up to this moment!
🤣
The Barrow Bride (horror)
The darkness is absolute. I struggle and fail to raise myself from the cold stone floor. Too frail even for that. How long have I been here?
Shuffling steps approach, the sound brittle as dried leaves. The air is clotted with decay. A withered hand grasps mine.
"Welcome, my dear."
I love everything about this, Leigh - the perfectly balanced details. What a spooky tale! 👻
Thank you!
"The air is clotted with decay." Euwww! Excellent!
I have a feeling she didn't welcome it. 😉
You'd be correct.
"the sound brittle as dried leaves"
Of His Own Making (50 Word Horror)
It's a difficult transition, David.
How did I get here?
You've made terrible choices, David.
I'm still young...I can change. Where am I?
In a horror of your own making, David.
What can I do?
I'm not here to help you, David.
Take me back!
This lasts forever, David
Excellent, Jim! Happy to see you by the fire. 🔥
"I'm not here to help you, David." Brilliant!
Brilliant dialogue. Spare, unsparing!
Not close enough, fiction, horror.
Jules ran her fingers through the sea foam, lovely to the touch even if a bit stinky. The sun peaked between some clouds and highlighted something moving under the tidewater. Her first reaction was curiosity and second was to gauge the distance to the shore. She would not make it.
Terrifying!
That last line is killer.
SUCCUBUS, Hallowe'en fiction in 50 words
The poor creature hangs from the needle-sharp teeth of the Night Hunter. Near death, oozing blood, bones broken, the shrieks have mercifully ended. She carries the corpse to The Altar, in extremis, lays it down, gnaws off the head, licks her gory claws.
The nightly bloodbath of the felis catus.
A gruesome and wicked tale, my friend! 😈
Now that's creepy!
Eek! Brilliantly bloodthirsty
This story had teeth. 😉
The Waiting, Fiction, Horror
She waits for the creature, and in the waiting she realizes it is worse than death.
For in the waiting there is no certainty, no finality to embrace and accept.
There is only a myriad of possible sufferings, too cruel to name.
It arrives. She wishes to wait some more.
Love this, Brian. A “killer” of an opening line!
Thanks, Justin! Happy to participate again! 😁
This is a surprisingly good metaphor for the writer experiencing rejection after months of twiddling their thumbs and pulling their hair out. 😂
Rejections? What rejections? I'm never rejected. 🙄
Good one, Brian. 😉
Yes it is!
Yow!
The reader is left pondering the myriad sufferings ... imagination running riot! Excellent
Usually the imagined is worse than the reality. But sometimes the reality is worse than the imagining. Nicely done.
Thanks, Mark! Living in between those two extremes is where the horror is at its strongest. 👻
Indeed!
One Night Stand - Fiction
At last, she sleeps. Sulfuric breath rattles under her immaculate breasts. Her belly, swollen with hellish life only moments after their entwining, glows red. He hastily drags his pants over the scorched remains of his manhood. Fabric meets raw flesh, and he cries out in agony.
“Going somewhere?” she asks.
Ahh! I cringed while reading this. Jim’s response is perfect, ha!
I cringed while writing it. 😂
N-n-n-No. Just going for coffee. I-i-i-I'll be right back.
Creepy one Meg!
Nooooooo! Run for your life!
aaaargh! Pass the ice!
Fabulously macabre
🧊😉
Yikes!
Oh Jesus Christ, Meg! You are really nuts.
Brava!
Aw. Thanks, Sharron. 🙂💜
Facing One’s Fears (Horror, Fiction)
The demon leered behind the glass. Gagging at its horrific stench, I recoiled in disgust. It mimicked me. Mocked me.
My fear became panic, then rage. It seethed in response. A crack amplified its putridity.
Crack?
Looking closer I realised my life was over. This wasn’t glass, but a mirror.
Great twist at the end, Stephen!
Thank you, good sir. You do have a knack for setting challenges to bring out the best in people. It’s a good collection this campfire.
Thanks so much, Stephen. Agreed - quite the turnout! The quality of writing is superb all around. I appreciate the kind words.
leered gagged disgust panic seethed putridity! Great word choices to put us right into this scene of horror.
Thanks Sharron. The demon went through numerous stances / attitudes before settling on sneering. It’s always great fun identifying the appropriate word - even more so in a 50BTF. I’m glad you appreciated them.
Fantastic twist!
"Beware" - fiction
He never knows which one he'll get. The one with the kind face and happy eyes or the one with raging eyes and horror on his face. The one smiling at him or the one who would tear him apart if he only could. - Beware the man in the mirror.
Ooh, great story, James! Perfect twist and warning at the end.
Hi Justin. Thanks! Your 50s by the Fire are fun.
Nice twist, cowboy.
Thank you, Jim!
Ain't that the truth! Yowza!
Bleeding Hearts (fiction)
Oh, he had it coming, all right. What is with people and their bleeding hearts? Forgiveness? Not this time, not ever.
Those who say the pen is mightier than the sword, have never felt the sword.
I am not a bleeding heart, but I make hearts bleed. I am king.
Whoever this guy is, I hope I never meet him. Truly scary, because he exists everywhere in this world. Yikes.
I'm with you, Sharron. "I am not a bleeding heart, but I make hearts bleed..." Yikes. That line makes my stomach turn upside down.
Thanks for that observation, and no, I'm NOT that guy!
Sorry! I didn't mean you, personally, my friend. I meant the guy in the story! ha ha ha
I know you didn't misunderstand. But honestly, I was a little self-conscious posting it.
Ha ha ha! Great story! Keep it up!
It’s a hell of a story! 👏 Thank you for sharing it!
The Mystery of the Woodland Murders
Thunder rumbled. The house in the woods was in darkness save for a dim lamplight indicating a lone occupant who had lived there all his life. Nobody ever discovered the whereabouts of nine missing schoolgirls from the neighborhood. Only Simeon Black knew, his eerie face illuminated when the lightning struck.
Eeek! Great job capturing an unbelievably unsettling atmosphere, Rosy!
Thanks! I really enjoyed the challenge.
Missing
Anton had been gone for thee days. Everyone was looking everywhere for him. He’d never be found. The rapist had an underground chamber hidden in the forest floor covered by leaves and sticks. Anton could scream all he wanted. No one could hear. The chamber was so incredibly deep.
Ugh, this one makes my heart heavy. Reminds me of an Alex Cross novel - can’t remember which book. Great job, Kim!
Thanks, Justin! Been reading too many books lately! Too bad I don’t have King’s imagination, I just finished Fairy Tale and woah!
In The Woods (Horror)
“It is pretty,” Jenny said as they arrived at the campsite.
“Told ya.”
“Whoa. Justin, that tree just moved toward us.”
“You’re silly. It must be your imagination.”
They pitched the tent.
As they slept, a dozen trees circled the tent and crept closer. By morning, the tent had vanished.
That campsite’s been giving people trouble for years! 😈 Great job, Mark!
I think this is why my wife doesn’t like camping, too. 🤣
😂 Good reason.
Oh nooooooooo!
My wife doesn't like camping. Maybe this is why. 😂
The Two-Story Man, Fiction
Katherine heard shrieking and ran to her daughter.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“A man at the window. I saw his face.”
“Jemma, you’re on the second floor. There’s no man.”
“He was two stories tall.”
Katherine didn’t notice where his breath had fogged the glass. Parents rarely do.
Spooky! Good one, EJ! Thanks for sharing.
Unforgettable || CNF
*I remember this moment a long time ago.*
He sighs. You say that every night.
*I must write this. It’s the perfect—*
—first line, he finishes, as he does every night.
In the notebook, the line repeats.
*I remember everything now.*
Yes, he says, you say that every night, too.
Face it. Meg Oolders wins this challenge hands down today. This woman pulls out all the stops. I sometimes wonder what else she has in that head of hers and I am not at all sure I want to know.
There’s no real competing with Meg, is there? She’s hands-down one of my favorite fiction writers on the platform. 😀
I don’t know if I want to declare a winner/favorite or turn this into a contest, though. There are a number of those types of events and spaces already. I like the community atmosphere and the encouraging spirit of all who read/write/contribute to Fifties by the Fire!
Thanks as always for being such a positive force and key contributor, Sharron! Wish we could all sit around an actual campfire sometime. Now that would be fun. 🔥
Oh boy, would it ever! I do know that these stories are a collaboration and not a contest. And I love it that every one reads and generously comments. It is so darned much fun! I think I was just gob-smacked by Meg's contribution today and still in shock when I commented. ha ha ha.
Haha, I completely agree. Some of these stories stay in my mind long after I read them...hers is one of them. And my goodness...I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out of my head. 😅
Scales of Justice (fiction)
The bully leaning back, feet up on his desk, savoring twisted triumph, notices something scratching his ankle. A chameleon is climbing up his pants leg, doubling in size with every step. “WTF?” shouts the bully. “My name is Karma,” the reptile hisses through sharp, bared teeth. “We have a date.”
Yikes! Terrifying stuff. Sounds like he had it coming. Thanks for sharing this story with us!
The Flowers, fiction:
"Don't mess around," she said. "You have the key."
"I'm serious."
She looked at him. "You left flowers in my room. And chocolates yesterday."
"Grace," he said. "I've never been in your room alone."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Then who was watching from the closet as I changed?"
Eeek! That gave me chills. Great twist, Rhiannon!
Thanks!
He woke. He knew something was wrong. It was moving. Whatever had bitten him was moving now, wanting out. Fear rose inside him as he sensed the creature turning, twisting. it pressed on his inner ear. Then the pain tore him apart as the gnawing began, pain you cannot imagine.
What a gruesome and dark tale! Makes me want to read more. Thanks so much for sharing!
That's what happens when the bun in the oven bakes at 6000 degrees in 9 minutes instead of 9 months.