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 a make or model of a vehicle, as well as its color. For example, depending on how descriptive you’d like to be, you can write a story about a black Jeep, a black Wrangler, or a black Jeep Wrangler. Or, if you’re willing to sacrifice four words, you could even write about a 1992 tan Dodge Spirit. (Which happened to be my first car. . . she was a beauty!)
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: Divot, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “Red Fiat” 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.
The sign out front clattered against the chain link fence. Mountains of hubcaps, rusted-out cars, and scrap metal littered the property. Billy didn’t see the mess. He saw art, history—an empire forming and expanding. He sat on the hood of his dead blue Camaro and smiled.
For Billy, as for my own son, a junk yard is pure heaven -- it is the El Dorado for tinkerers , mechanics, and artists alike. Your fifty words are so evocative, Justin. Beautifully composed.
Thank you so much, Sharron! Even though most people can’t see it, the space really is a sanctuary for Billy. How cool that your son has an affinity for cars and similar places. The tinkerers of the world are some of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.
The near-neighbor's red Zastava has still not been unveiled.
Kept wrapped under tan tarp, caked in dust, needled by overhung pines...
in all the years I've walked by it, putting miles on my feet, the resplendent rusted Zastava has never moved, instead cementing its legacy as the sidewalk's ornery God.
This is awesome, Chris. I can visualize the Zastava perfectly. And that last paragraph is filled with some gripping details. The “ornery God” line will stick with me all day! Great stuff!
I wasn't thinking of Aristotle until it came time to think of a title, which was after the story was written, but over here there are plenty of old Zastavas, and Yugos, and Nivas and so on. Something mysterious and epic about walking in the urban Balkans...
I enjoy the 50 word challenges, so thanks again for sponsoring this fun event. Enjoy your weekend!
My brother's first car was a blue Chevy Malibu. It had rust spots like freckles on its hood and its engine purred like a contented cat. He loved the wind rushing through his hair as he drove—as if he could escape the world's troubles with every mile he covered.
Love this, Ron! You’ve got the lyrics, now you just need to pair an acoustic guitar/harmonica with it. 😄 I don’t know why I read this like a song, but it feels like one, or it could shape into one, at least!
Candy-apple red Triumph! Yowza! Ah, well, the old rusty blue VW bus had a certain charm as well, didn't it? Or at least it did back then. In California. Had one myself, with flowers painted on the sides...
It was hard to see much from here. The ravine was too damn steep for easy walking and the car had rolled a couple times on the way down. Looked real new, though. '76 Mustang, maybe? But we didn't have fancy cars 'round here. Who the hell's car was it?
My mom used to say the same exact thing to me! And oddly enough my dad was the one who taught me to drive. I totally understand where you’re coming from!
He drove a blue ’72 Malibu SuperSport. His brother, a drug dealer. He threw a cat out the second-floor window of his apartment to see if it landed upright. It did.
He had a mullet.
And tattoos. Three DUIs by the time he was 23, and I married him anyway.
Oh shoot, I forgot to remove the link. John is in the process of migrating his site to a new space/figuring out next steps. I don’t believe he has a Substack yet.
I wanted to get back to writing prompted microfiction, so I came up with an idea for this prompt. But I couldn't whittle it down to 50-words. It ended up at 133 words. I am posting a link to it anyway. I hope you don't mind. Next time, I will stick to the rules. 🤓
Loved the story, Mark. No worries whatsoever...the rules are meant to broken! Great to see you getting back to some prompted micro. Thanks so much for sharing! 😀
Chris! I don’t know how I missed this, but that final line is heart wrenching. It twisted my insides. Hell of a story! Thanks so much for sharing here!
No worries Justin! Thanks for reading and for the kind words on the story. Really appreciate that - it's nice to know these stories have the impact I'm aiming for!
Billy's Hubcap Heaven, Fiction
The sign out front clattered against the chain link fence. Mountains of hubcaps, rusted-out cars, and scrap metal littered the property. Billy didn’t see the mess. He saw art, history—an empire forming and expanding. He sat on the hood of his dead blue Camaro and smiled.
For Billy, as for my own son, a junk yard is pure heaven -- it is the El Dorado for tinkerers , mechanics, and artists alike. Your fifty words are so evocative, Justin. Beautifully composed.
Thank you so much, Sharron! Even though most people can’t see it, the space really is a sanctuary for Billy. How cool that your son has an affinity for cars and similar places. The tinkerers of the world are some of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.
Title: The Unmoved Mover (fiction)
The near-neighbor's red Zastava has still not been unveiled.
Kept wrapped under tan tarp, caked in dust, needled by overhung pines...
in all the years I've walked by it, putting miles on my feet, the resplendent rusted Zastava has never moved, instead cementing its legacy as the sidewalk's ornery God.
This is awesome, Chris. I can visualize the Zastava perfectly. And that last paragraph is filled with some gripping details. The “ornery God” line will stick with me all day! Great stuff!
Hey, thanks, Justin, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I wasn't thinking of Aristotle until it came time to think of a title, which was after the story was written, but over here there are plenty of old Zastavas, and Yugos, and Nivas and so on. Something mysterious and epic about walking in the urban Balkans...
I enjoy the 50 word challenges, so thanks again for sponsoring this fun event. Enjoy your weekend!
needled by overhung pines
love that!
thank you!
A Malibu Getaway, Fiction
My brother's first car was a blue Chevy Malibu. It had rust spots like freckles on its hood and its engine purred like a contented cat. He loved the wind rushing through his hair as he drove—as if he could escape the world's troubles with every mile he covered.
Smooth...........
Love this, Caro!
Hot Wheels, prose poem
The child drives his red Porsche down his mommy’s arm and across their bedtime knees.
Vroom! Vrooooooom!
My boy will have cars when he’s older, she thinks.
Now, the vintage yellow Mustang and the blue Ranchero stand in his driveway, and his mommy remembers his childhood pajama-driving with such longing.
--------------------------------------------------------------
NOTE: my word-counter reads "pajama-driving" as one word...
Such a beautiful tale of childhood, Sharron! And I'm with you on the word count - hyphenated words = one word, absolutely! 🤣
Aww, a bittersweet tale, no question. Loved it, Sharron! My son is obsessed with cars and trucks, and I wonder if we’ll walk a similar path someday. 😊
Title: ‘63 Triumph TR3, non-fiction
A candy apple red ’63 TR3,
Was sold to me by a man in need.
A perfect ride with my girl and dog,
We made the rounds on Old Cape Cod.
Fun and games ‘till things went bust,
I traded it for an old VW bus.
And I headed west.
Love this, Ron! You’ve got the lyrics, now you just need to pair an acoustic guitar/harmonica with it. 😄 I don’t know why I read this like a song, but it feels like one, or it could shape into one, at least!
A good idea, Justin! I'll see what I can come up with. Thanks.
Candy-apple red Triumph! Yowza! Ah, well, the old rusty blue VW bus had a certain charm as well, didn't it? Or at least it did back then. In California. Had one myself, with flowers painted on the sides...
The Wreck (mystery/historical fiction)
It was hard to see much from here. The ravine was too damn steep for easy walking and the car had rolled a couple times on the way down. Looked real new, though. '76 Mustang, maybe? But we didn't have fancy cars 'round here. Who the hell's car was it?
Good one, Leigh! Love the voice you captured in this piece. I feel like this could lead to an entire storyline/400-page novel.
By Accident, Creative Non-Fiction
How’d that happen?
Unobstructed view. Ford Pinto yields. Driver looks both ways, but misses a Chevy Nova crawling through the intersection.
T-bone damages metal and plastic, not flesh nor bone.
Something mind blowing happens… Father keeps his cool. Novice driver learns parenting skill that isn’t a part of Driving 101.
There is something to be said for a parent remaining calm in these situations. What a lovely story with an important message!
Right?
I don’t mean to throw my mom under the bus but…
She always used to say, “Just wait until your dad gets home!”
It was a threat that never bore any fruit, yet created an unrealistic fear in me. 🤷♀️
My mom used to say the same exact thing to me! And oddly enough my dad was the one who taught me to drive. I totally understand where you’re coming from!
Awwww. Beautiful, 3MM!
My son is 22 and his only metal bender happened with the garage door. When it happened, I channeled my father’s calm demeanor. 😉
Cecelia, "Creative" non-fiction
To the tune of Cecelia by Simon and Garfunkel
Cecelia
I'm down on my knees
Begging you please
To start up
Take me back home
You're breaking my heart
And my wallet
I'm begging you please
You're shaking my confidence daily
You 1978 Blue VW Rabbit piece of oh, oh,
(These words in some form may or may not have been sung many times)
Oh yes, all those Cecilias we have endured! Mine was a 62 VW named Bruce. He loved to tease me.
Come on Bruce! You can do it!
So glad to be done with those days...
Haha! Thank you for the chuckle. I also love your note at the end. 🤣
San Franciso 1965. Sitting with best friend. Tiny battered turqoise car drives up. Black hair,40ish.
" Want a car,kid?"
IRS just sent rebate.
"Maybe"
"Try it out?"
"Sure."
We ride. Why not.
He gives pink paper.
"Tuesday 87 Haight Street. .You ask for Mel."
.Old lady frowns.
"Mel? What Mel?"
Good one, Ernie! I enjoyed it! 😀
The Ex || Fiction (ish)
He drove a blue ’72 Malibu SuperSport. His brother, a drug dealer. He threw a cat out the second-floor window of his apartment to see if it landed upright. It did.
He had a mullet.
And tattoos. Three DUIs by the time he was 23, and I married him anyway.
Whoa! You’ve painted a clear and succinct picture of this man. I won’t read too deeply into the ish part, ha! Thanks for sharing, Amie!
Fiction-ish! ha ha ha. So, how did that work out for you, Amie?
Definitely not one of *my protagonist’s* best choices
Great photo.
Agreed! John is a talented guy! 📸
The link didn't work. Does he have a Substack?
Oh shoot, I forgot to remove the link. John is in the process of migrating his site to a new space/figuring out next steps. I don’t believe he has a Substack yet.
Ah. Thanks.
I wanted to get back to writing prompted microfiction, so I came up with an idea for this prompt. But I couldn't whittle it down to 50-words. It ended up at 133 words. I am posting a link to it anyway. I hope you don't mind. Next time, I will stick to the rules. 🤓
Brains And Knuckles Get A Job (Fiction)
https://markstarlinwrites.substack.com/p/brains-and-knuckles-get-a-job
Loved the story, Mark. No worries whatsoever...the rules are meant to broken! Great to see you getting back to some prompted micro. Thanks so much for sharing! 😀
Thanks. My pleasure. I fondly remember the the Friday Fix days. Prompts are such a good challenge and imagination stirrer. I plan to do more.
Red Light Dreamers, Fiction
Suitcase packed and playlist ready, Bradley jumped into the driver's seat of his new champagne-coloured Cadillac.
After years of empty promises, he was finally going on his road trip adventure.
New wheels. Open road. Infinite possibilities.
He was so lost in thought that he never saw the lights change red.
Chris! I don’t know how I missed this, but that final line is heart wrenching. It twisted my insides. Hell of a story! Thanks so much for sharing here!
No worries Justin! Thanks for reading and for the kind words on the story. Really appreciate that - it's nice to know these stories have the impact I'm aiming for!
ride on. wheel keep in touch, yeah?
Ride on. Wheel keep in touch, yes?
Most definitely. Wheelie. And instead of meeting by the fire, we can meet up for brake-fast sometime. 😄