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 work of CNF) that involves rain. Bring on the downpours and drizzles! Let’s see a deluge of stories.
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: Bandit, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “Saturday Afternoon Depot” 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 was only fitting that on the day of his funeral the skies opened up. As the trumpeter played “Taps” and umbrellas flipped inside out from the whipping wind, I knew without a doubt he was smiling, laughing down at us – soaking it all in.
(Note: this is an older "fifty" I wrote a few years ago.)
Rain falls on splintered wood and bent grass. Rain floods gutters and grounds kites, clears lawns and confines boys, girls, and dogs to too-small houses where they wait, noses pressed to double-paned windows fogged by warm breaths full of pent-up energy and impatient hopes. Young eyes watch falling rain turn ditches to mirrors.
Terrific sensory images to accompany an equally stunning piece of art--kudos Jim and John! (And Justin, for the prompt. Slowly sculpting my 50, coming soon)
“Days after my body is cremated, some of my atoms as water vapor will condense into liquid and return to the earth to be swallowed greedily by plants and animals alike as rain. The smallest particles of me living in, living on.”
What a beautiful and poignant poem, Sharron. The opening line is a breath of fresh air, and the following line turns the whole thing on its head. Powerful!
Most of the news I get is by rumor, and I find it horrifying. Thank goodness, I do not have a tv or newspaper. I don't think I could handle it any more.
The rain was coming down in sheets as we awaited the train. We hadn’t seen our boy in three long, stressful years. He’d been fighting overseas. We couldn’t wait to hug him in our arms. That’s what every parent wants when connecting with their kids after such a long time.
The rain hit the street outside so hard that it splashed back up into thousands of watery butterflies. I ran outside with my children, all of us barefoot, and we yelled and laughed, catching the rain in our mouths. That was back when it was safe to drink the rain.
What an enjoyable story, DW. I really wish people would keep their opinions to themselves on the bride’s most important day of her life. “Beliefs set a tone” is a strong ending to this piece!
They say Eskimos have thirty words for snow. I've often wondered if that's true. I look at the rain pooling out on the driveway, rainbow stains of oil sweeping across the pavement, and wonder how many words I can come up with for rain. I give up after three words.
What a beautiful moment you’ve captured, Ben. I love the line “...rainbow stains of oil sweeping across the pavement”. I can visualize it so clearly in my mind. Excellent work! And thanks so much for sharing.
He sloshes over the threshold and stops inside the door, dripping puddles. “Shit, sorry.”
“What are you doing outside right now?”
He chuckles. “I thought I’d walk over and say hi. And the sky exploded.” He reaches up, squeezes the water from his hair, looks at me, and smiles. “Hi.”
----
I made it! A day late, but still! Thank you so much for the shout out, Justin. The fire looks oh so cozy in here. 🔥🔥🔥
So well written, as always, Meg. I want to see more from these characters! It feels like they have great chemistry already. Does this fall under the YA genre?
No worries and no pressure, ever! Happy you made it! And yes, thanks again. The divider really does help make the whole thing work. 🔥 🙏
YA yes! Chemistry YES! I posted a longer scene with these two back in December. I'm not sure if you were a subscriber back then, but if you have a few minutes to hunker down and get swoony, here ya go: https://stockfiction.substack.com/p/church-kiss
Stayed up too late again. I'm blurry. This muscular morning rain doesn't help. Two coffees doesn't help.
This rain is strange, each drop a thinner version of gone people. My grandpa oozes toward me, smiling, holding a soaked bagel. Bold or shy, Virginia Woolf is undressing. Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.
What an excellent piece, Ernie! The sentence beginning with “The rain is strange...” is my favorite because of how much weight it carries. Thanks so much for sharing!
these fifty words could be a door to a longer story or novel if I choose to go into further details or explorations where each raindrop/person is a story or interest. For example, what is my grandpa doing with this soaked bagel, or does he want me to do something with him or eat or dry and when it dries does it become a full course dinner or do suddenly one hundred wet El Salvodorean children with bits of metal cages stuck on their backs and legs suddenly appear so desparately hungry they start sawing off pieces of my refrigerator or breaking my cheap furniture into pieces and sprinklng them with all my favorite seasonings- Hoison Sauce, Gomasio seeds, Lemon pepper, Garlic Pepper and my favorite Brewers Yeast.
I coud also cotinue the rain drop that is Virginia Woolf undressing including one version where she keeps revealing yet another outfit maybe5-20 of them and ten she starts telling me the stories of her and each outfit
and next each outfit sits and writes their biography memoir , reading their stories and histories aloud, "Yes, i began life as a girdle yet I yearned to be a very think sveltle scarf warmllinlg you in the increasing wamrth when it was not ductaped over my body or tightened too closely to all my blisters. TBC
Yes! I have expanded on plenty of my “fifties” over the years. Though some can stand alone, many can evolve into short stories, novels, you name it. I hope you choose to go that route!
I left, carrying my mother—all seven pounds of her—in the forest green reusable tote bag kindly provided by the cremation services representative, and the rain began, a heavy stampede of rain, heavier than it had been all day, and lightning, and the thunderous wrath of Thor’s hammer itself.
Hi Jenise! Yes, 5/12 will be the next “fire”. I scaled these back to once monthly moving forward, so they will always be the second Friday of the month.
I’ll share the prompt on the Monday leading up to the fire, too!
“Why are we hiding here in the rain while our enemies feast in comfort?” Brythan said, seething.
“Don’t hate the rain,” Tykka replied. “It falls without thought for mortals. The rain is impartial. Unlike our families, it hates no one. Instead, it offers all life, regardless of who we love.”
Dude, Im going strong on this weird germinating gem! I just wrote another part "Virginia Vomiting";trails and trials are rolling out with that pre-full spring lavender tinge over all the trees e starting to "bud-in:".Yes, we have sit-ins; forests have bud-ins with practically free admissions (and, in some places, free emissions providing there is not an overabundance of factories and teenagers). I can't thank you enough, so this will have to do.
Ernie Brills absolute favorite fiction and poetry books. (Ill finish this tomorrow since I have to get ready for a local open mike where Im one of the features readers.I get to read for TWENTY minutes, talk about deserved luxury. Write On.
Thanks, Justin. This was way more fun than I imagined. I worked on it from about 6am until now- 717. But then and again, mornings more and more are my favorite times to write.
NOTE to you and all. May I recommend three novels for your reading pleasure and writing inspiration.
My Name Is Red- by Oran Pamuk ( Nobel Prize winner from Turkey). A challenging and daring kaleidiscope of a love murder mystery search story with characters that have names of colors and animals, ie Chapter one HORSE and chapter two TURQUOISE. Unbelievable and probably one of the best novels Ive read in the last thirty years.
Tent of Miracles- Jorge Amado. A wild rambunctous tale about underground organizers for a better education for the underddog.
Waiting For Nothing- Tom Kromer. This slim novel was written on paper bags and bible tracts during the great American depression ( the economic one, not your maniic family history). Searingly laconic, the brevity makes Raymond Carver and Ernest Hemmingway look like Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The novel's dedicatiion reads: "To Jolene, who turned off the gas."
I’m so happy to hear it, Ernie. It’s such a helpful (and fun) exercise for me personally because I enjoy how precise one must be. Trimming back words and trying to find the best word to use in each instance makes it a bit of a writer’s puzzle to solve.
Wow, thank you so much for the recommendations! I’ll be sure to add these novels to my reading list. For you to say that about My Name is Red makes me want to pick up a copy right now.
Please keep the book recommendations coming! This is what I’m here for! 😀
Thanks again for sharing your story and ideas with us, Ernie! 🙏
Soaking It In, Fiction
Uncle Joe loved the rain.
It was only fitting that on the day of his funeral the skies opened up. As the trumpeter played “Taps” and umbrellas flipped inside out from the whipping wind, I knew without a doubt he was smiling, laughing down at us – soaking it all in.
(Note: this is an older "fifty" I wrote a few years ago.)
Very cool. I wonder who he was?!
Thanks, Sharron! I...have no idea! 😆
And it's still awesome!
Thanks, Dascha!
Deluge, Fiction
Rain falls on splintered wood and bent grass. Rain floods gutters and grounds kites, clears lawns and confines boys, girls, and dogs to too-small houses where they wait, noses pressed to double-paned windows fogged by warm breaths full of pent-up energy and impatient hopes. Young eyes watch falling rain turn ditches to mirrors.
PS--Great pic, John!
Jim, I loved every word. What a stunning story! You capture so many images, specific details, and emotions here. Great stuff!
Thanks Justin!
Terrific sensory images to accompany an equally stunning piece of art--kudos Jim and John! (And Justin, for the prompt. Slowly sculpting my 50, coming soon)
Agreed, Jim and John both knocked it out of the park. Looking forward to it, Amie!
Thanks Amie!
Wow, Jim! Brilliant, multi-sensory images here.
Thanks Sharron. Justin's prompts have always seemed to work out well for me.
Thanks, Jim. I appreciate it! Like you mentioned above, I think John’s photos add an extra element.
You've packed so much into 50 words, Jim. Great story!
Thanks, Dascha. Good things happen when I write on Justin's prompts.
Last Words, Fiction
“Think of this,” Mom whispered.
“Days after my body is cremated, some of my atoms as water vapor will condense into liquid and return to the earth to be swallowed greedily by plants and animals alike as rain. The smallest particles of me living in, living on.”
“Heaven?” I asked.
I love this, Caro. It fully captures how cyclical life can be. And the final line is perfect!
... and then becoming space dust! Beautiful.
And so the cycle goes. Beautifully done!
ORDINARY DAYS, prose poem
I find my joy in the rain, in salt air, in a quiet, orderly life.
Yet each day I grieve for human failure. Such spiritual poverty -- such epidemic ignorance and pointless violence.
The sting of these ordinary days mutes in the mind all the simple delights.
Was it always so?
What a beautiful and poignant poem, Sharron. The opening line is a breath of fresh air, and the following line turns the whole thing on its head. Powerful!
Most of the news I get is by rumor, and I find it horrifying. Thank goodness, I do not have a tv or newspaper. I don't think I could handle it any more.
You've really captured the essence of what so many are feeling at the point in history.
Finally Home, Fiction
The rain was coming down in sheets as we awaited the train. We hadn’t seen our boy in three long, stressful years. He’d been fighting overseas. We couldn’t wait to hug him in our arms. That’s what every parent wants when connecting with their kids after such a long time.
I’m sure the parents will never forget that particular memory. Great job capturing it, Matthew!
This is such an important story as we watch events unfolding in Ukraine.
Amen to that.
The rain hit the street outside so hard that it splashed back up into thousands of watery butterflies. I ran outside with my children, all of us barefoot, and we yelled and laughed, catching the rain in our mouths. That was back when it was safe to drink the rain.
Great last line, SG! It changes the entire atmosphere of the story. Nicely done! And man, the world has changed a lot these past few years, hasn’t it?
A happy rain dance! You describe perfectly how Californians feel at the first autumn rain and the end of fire season! Excellent
I love that you both capture the joy of playing in the rain and juxtapose it with a very sad reality. Well done!
Happy Birthday | Creative Non-fiction
It was pouring outside. “Dad… I can’t believe you’re ninety.”
“Thanks honey, I can’t believe it either.”
Dick, ninety-five, sat next to his brother. Both were in WW II. I attempted in vain to envision what they went through.
With a smirk, Dick sighed. “I remember… when I was ninety.”
Haha! What a funny last line. Wow, ninety and ninety-five - those two are blessed!
For those of you who liked this, I published it on my substack with more information about these guys and some pictures. https://scottocamb.substack.com/p/happy-birthday
What a great memory!
"I remember when I was... ninety." ha ha ha. Dad - the kid brother!
Unsolicited Opinions, Fiction
As the bride started down the processional, so did the waterworks.
"Rain on a wedding is good luck"
"Tell that to the bride's makeup"
"We don't know how it will turn out"
"...rain doesn't do anything so let's not say it does"
"Party poopers gonna poop, beliefs set a tone."
What an enjoyable story, DW. I really wish people would keep their opinions to themselves on the bride’s most important day of her life. “Beliefs set a tone” is a strong ending to this piece!
This is so much fun!
Clouds Break, Fiction
They shivered; the rain had discovered their hiding place. The clouds that had been hunting them were outside now, and they had burst.
"Ain't no end to this." He looked at his partner, solemn but smiling
Smiling, because he knew that when the clouds cried, the light would follow.
Beautiful, Chris! I really enjoyed this one!
Thank you!
Thank you! I've posted it on my own Substack as well now. Thanks for the prompt!
I loved your photo! Thanks for the mention over on your Substack. 🙏
Called, Fiction
Drops tap at Greta’s window.
Insistent.
Persistent.
Far too close to use the word distant.
“I hear you. Enough already!”
“But… We want you to come out and play with us!”
Feeling wanted is a very, very hard feeling to ignore.
Slicker, boots, umbrella, leash.
“C’mon four-leg. We are wanted.”
Love this! The opening has a fun rhythm to it and the final line of dialogue made me smile. 😀
Thanks Justin! It was fun to write. Grateful for the opportunity.
Thanks so much for sharing! 🙏
I really love this story! The call of the rain!
"Feeling wanted is a very, very hard feeling to ignore." Sure is! What's a little rain!?
They say Eskimos have thirty words for snow. I've often wondered if that's true. I look at the rain pooling out on the driveway, rainbow stains of oil sweeping across the pavement, and wonder how many words I can come up with for rain. I give up after three words.
What a beautiful moment you’ve captured, Ben. I love the line “...rainbow stains of oil sweeping across the pavement”. I can visualize it so clearly in my mind. Excellent work! And thanks so much for sharing.
Thanks Justin! Have you looked at my site yet? You might like some of the stories.
Ben, I haven’t checked out your site yet, but I’ll make a mental note for myself to do so soon! Looking forward to it!
I love the image of "rainbow stains of oil sweeping across the pavement." This is a great story.
Hi, Novel Excerpt
He sloshes over the threshold and stops inside the door, dripping puddles. “Shit, sorry.”
“What are you doing outside right now?”
He chuckles. “I thought I’d walk over and say hi. And the sky exploded.” He reaches up, squeezes the water from his hair, looks at me, and smiles. “Hi.”
----
I made it! A day late, but still! Thank you so much for the shout out, Justin. The fire looks oh so cozy in here. 🔥🔥🔥
So well written, as always, Meg. I want to see more from these characters! It feels like they have great chemistry already. Does this fall under the YA genre?
No worries and no pressure, ever! Happy you made it! And yes, thanks again. The divider really does help make the whole thing work. 🔥 🙏
YA yes! Chemistry YES! I posted a longer scene with these two back in December. I'm not sure if you were a subscriber back then, but if you have a few minutes to hunker down and get swoony, here ya go: https://stockfiction.substack.com/p/church-kiss
Thanks, Meg! I don’t remember reading it, and I’m not even sure if I was a subscriber at that time. I’ll give it a read very soon! 😀
Nice excerpt! It works well as a story.
Feeling Like The Pounding Rain, Poetry
Pouring thunderous rain
Left my cake out
On the patio, gotta clean it again!
Oh well, sweet runny mess
Of blue and orange frosting.
Trying not to think of unhappiness.
Texted not-so-good news.
How to cope with thunder
As I crouch by the window and muse.
Reacting silently, I’m praying…
You cover a lot of ground here, Trina. Lovely writing! Thanks for sharing with us.
I can picture this so well. Great poem. Too bad about the cake!
Stayed up too late again. I'm blurry. This muscular morning rain doesn't help. Two coffees doesn't help.
This rain is strange, each drop a thinner version of gone people. My grandpa oozes toward me, smiling, holding a soaked bagel. Bold or shy, Virginia Woolf is undressing. Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.
What an excellent piece, Ernie! The sentence beginning with “The rain is strange...” is my favorite because of how much weight it carries. Thanks so much for sharing!
these fifty words could be a door to a longer story or novel if I choose to go into further details or explorations where each raindrop/person is a story or interest. For example, what is my grandpa doing with this soaked bagel, or does he want me to do something with him or eat or dry and when it dries does it become a full course dinner or do suddenly one hundred wet El Salvodorean children with bits of metal cages stuck on their backs and legs suddenly appear so desparately hungry they start sawing off pieces of my refrigerator or breaking my cheap furniture into pieces and sprinklng them with all my favorite seasonings- Hoison Sauce, Gomasio seeds, Lemon pepper, Garlic Pepper and my favorite Brewers Yeast.
I coud also cotinue the rain drop that is Virginia Woolf undressing including one version where she keeps revealing yet another outfit maybe5-20 of them and ten she starts telling me the stories of her and each outfit
and next each outfit sits and writes their biography memoir , reading their stories and histories aloud, "Yes, i began life as a girdle yet I yearned to be a very think sveltle scarf warmllinlg you in the increasing wamrth when it was not ductaped over my body or tightened too closely to all my blisters. TBC
Yes! I have expanded on plenty of my “fifties” over the years. Though some can stand alone, many can evolve into short stories, novels, you name it. I hope you choose to go that route!
Above & Beyond | Creative Nonfiction
I left, carrying my mother—all seven pounds of her—in the forest green reusable tote bag kindly provided by the cremation services representative, and the rain began, a heavy stampede of rain, heavier than it had been all day, and lightning, and the thunderous wrath of Thor’s hammer itself.
You left me with a lump in my throat. My goodness...that’s one powerful piece of writing, Amie. Thank you so much for sharing. 🙏
The sky grieved with you!
Will the next FbtF be on May 12th?
My schedule's been "weird", and I keep missing the prompt day. 😬
Hi Jenise! Yes, 5/12 will be the next “fire”. I scaled these back to once monthly moving forward, so they will always be the second Friday of the month.
I’ll share the prompt on the Monday leading up to the fire, too!
Impartial, Fiction
“Why are we hiding here in the rain while our enemies feast in comfort?” Brythan said, seething.
“Don’t hate the rain,” Tykka replied. “It falls without thought for mortals. The rain is impartial. Unlike our families, it hates no one. Instead, it offers all life, regardless of who we love.”
Oooh, love this, Dascha! Beautifully constructed. Thanks for sharing! 🙏
Wait until you see the image I created to go with it on Eclectic Ink. It's publishing there next month. The 6th, if I remember correctly.
Can’t wait to see it!
Thanks, Justin.
Dude, Im going strong on this weird germinating gem! I just wrote another part "Virginia Vomiting";trails and trials are rolling out with that pre-full spring lavender tinge over all the trees e starting to "bud-in:".Yes, we have sit-ins; forests have bud-ins with practically free admissions (and, in some places, free emissions providing there is not an overabundance of factories and teenagers). I can't thank you enough, so this will have to do.
Ernie Brills absolute favorite fiction and poetry books. (Ill finish this tomorrow since I have to get ready for a local open mike where Im one of the features readers.I get to read for TWENTY minutes, talk about deserved luxury. Write On.
Happy to hear it, Ernie! Write on!
Thanks, Justin. This was way more fun than I imagined. I worked on it from about 6am until now- 717. But then and again, mornings more and more are my favorite times to write.
NOTE to you and all. May I recommend three novels for your reading pleasure and writing inspiration.
My Name Is Red- by Oran Pamuk ( Nobel Prize winner from Turkey). A challenging and daring kaleidiscope of a love murder mystery search story with characters that have names of colors and animals, ie Chapter one HORSE and chapter two TURQUOISE. Unbelievable and probably one of the best novels Ive read in the last thirty years.
Tent of Miracles- Jorge Amado. A wild rambunctous tale about underground organizers for a better education for the underddog.
Waiting For Nothing- Tom Kromer. This slim novel was written on paper bags and bible tracts during the great American depression ( the economic one, not your maniic family history). Searingly laconic, the brevity makes Raymond Carver and Ernest Hemmingway look like Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The novel's dedicatiion reads: "To Jolene, who turned off the gas."
I’m so happy to hear it, Ernie. It’s such a helpful (and fun) exercise for me personally because I enjoy how precise one must be. Trimming back words and trying to find the best word to use in each instance makes it a bit of a writer’s puzzle to solve.
Wow, thank you so much for the recommendations! I’ll be sure to add these novels to my reading list. For you to say that about My Name is Red makes me want to pick up a copy right now.
Please keep the book recommendations coming! This is what I’m here for! 😀
Thanks again for sharing your story and ideas with us, Ernie! 🙏