Fifties by the Fire — a fifty-word, prompt-based writing challenge.
Pull up a chair by the fire as we welcome the autumn season. Let’s read, write, and celebrate each other’s creations.
Prompt: write a fifty-word story that uses the word “season” or “seasons”. For an extra challenge, begin or end your story with the prompt word. 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: Saving Spellbound, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing his photo, “Autumn on the Danube,” for our writing prompt. I’m honored to be collaborating with John and look forward to showcasing more of his work in the near future.
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.
Seasonal Produce was finished; the band disbanded. But he wasn’t done. The music still called from somewhere through the fog of defeat. He had no choice but to listen and wait. Wait for the sun to rise on a shiny new idea. And then he went for it. Solo Career.
I'm 46 years into Michigan winters, and at this point the only thing that could pull me away would be grandchildren. I complain every year, just like Charlie 😁
Michigan is a beautiful state (most of it.) I prefer the Lake Michigan coast to the North Carolina coast. No salt or sharks. But I worked outside loading airplanes at Metro airport so it was an easy decision when I got the chance to transfer to Raleigh.
End of Season. Sea, a million glistening stars. Sky, a watercolor. Breeze, an August afternoon when summer is both endless and fleeting. His ashes scattered, feathers floating along the waves. She paddled past a cottage on the little island, windows shuttered, dock pulled up. As if summer had never happened.
A Promise is a Promise - prose poem by Sharron at 🍁Leaves
We met one solitary morning in winter. By spring, we’d surrendered to love, and on Midsummer Day we married. It all happened so quickly. Now, dazed by the reality of autumn, we understand that it takes serious dedication, season by season, year by year, for a marriage to last forever.
Thank you, Claire, for your comment. What is so provocative about the fifty-word limit, I think, is that the rest of the story plays out in the readers' heads. They can take it anywhere they like, make it their own. Some kind of magic happens in that transition.
Take one sunny morning on the back porch. Add two cups of remarkably good coffee. Stir in songs of the finch and the sparrow. Mix in a little book-light from a favorite writer. Season with a kiss, in passing, from your little boy. A recipe for a darned good day.
John rubbed the ribs with spices, coated them with his secret sauce, and set them in the refrigerator to marinate. The next day, John cooked the ribs for six hours. Soon, his kids and grandkids arrived.
Justin, I love your story and am making my way through the others... I didn't get to write mine, although I thought about it a lot... Maybe next time. I think the photograph is perfect, too.
Thanks, Andrea! No worries at all, and no pressure! I always enjoy hearing from you. Isn’t the photograph beautiful? John has some breathtaking work. Can’t wait to share more of it. 😊
She - fiction
She was the favorite season of his life.
Late nights, early mornings: always hitting the road on an adventure. Working on the fly and making money when needed.
Two years in, she grew tired of it all – wanted something sure, something stable.
When winter arrived, it seemed to linger forever.
The sweetness in that first line...
Absolutely love John's photo. It's the perfect pairing!
Right?! John is incredibly talented. I’m excited to share more of his work. Thank you again for connecting us!
Ditto on this end as well. Thanks Amie.
That last line. Stop breaking my heart like that. And thanks for hosting this little gathering! I'm excited to see what everyone comes up with!
My intent was to write a lighthearted piece, but this is what came out, ha!
Thanks for hanging and being a part of it! 😊
Best opening line ever. Relationships are so complicated. It wears you out...
Thank you, Sharron! They really are.
New Job - fiction
Seasonal Produce was finished; the band disbanded. But he wasn’t done. The music still called from somewhere through the fog of defeat. He had no choice but to listen and wait. Wait for the sun to rise on a shiny new idea. And then he went for it. Solo Career.
Awesome, Claire! I really enjoyed this concept. And what a great band name.
Nice. Bands come and go, but music never stops.
Stay - fiction
“I hate winters in Michigan,” Charlie says in February. “They’re long, depressing and gray. I should move.”
He makes a snowman, drinks hot cocoa and reads Calvin and Hobbes to his grandson by a warm, inviting fire.
Charlie won’t move.
Little hugs and snuggles are more important than any season.
I love the warmth of this story. I can feel it in every word. Great stuff, Brian!
Thanks Justin! This was more challenging than I anticipated. It's great practice!
It is difficult, right?! It really becomes an exercise in word choice/trimming back language - a fun little puzzle to solve! 😄
I love this, Brian! Such a wholesome way to start my morning.
Thanks Claire! I definitely wanted it to be an upbeat story.
I grew up in Michigan. I can relate. But after 36 years, I moved south to the shorter, milder winters of North Carolina. I have grandsons here now. 🙂
I'm 46 years into Michigan winters, and at this point the only thing that could pull me away would be grandchildren. I complain every year, just like Charlie 😁
Michigan is a beautiful state (most of it.) I prefer the Lake Michigan coast to the North Carolina coast. No salt or sharks. But I worked outside loading airplanes at Metro airport so it was an easy decision when I got the chance to transfer to Raleigh.
Equinox - Fiction
End of Season. Sea, a million glistening stars. Sky, a watercolor. Breeze, an August afternoon when summer is both endless and fleeting. His ashes scattered, feathers floating along the waves. She paddled past a cottage on the little island, windows shuttered, dock pulled up. As if summer had never happened.
Wow, you captured so much here, Amie. Stunning!
I love this!
So much emotion in so few words, Amie, thank you!
A Promise is a Promise - prose poem by Sharron at 🍁Leaves
We met one solitary morning in winter. By spring, we’d surrendered to love, and on Midsummer Day we married. It all happened so quickly. Now, dazed by the reality of autumn, we understand that it takes serious dedication, season by season, year by year, for a marriage to last forever.
I can see this whirwind of a romance playing out in my head. I'm so impressed with how much can be said in fifty words.
Thank you, Claire, for your comment. What is so provocative about the fifty-word limit, I think, is that the rest of the story plays out in the readers' heads. They can take it anywhere they like, make it their own. Some kind of magic happens in that transition.
Sharron, this has always been the beauty in the fifty word limit for me as well! I love filling in the empty spaces with what’s left unsaid.
Beautiful, Sharron. I love how you take us through the seasons. And so true - it does require serious dedication!
Golden Girl - Non-Fiction
We step into a dark room awash in beams of golden dust one late summer evening.
Placing foil-covered meals in the infirm stranger’s kitchen, I look over to my grandmother.
For the first time in my thirteen years, it struck me that she, too, will someday come into this season.
Beautiful, Bryn! Thank you for sharing. 🙏
🙏 Thanks for the prompt!
So true, Bryn. Life speeds by!
Recipe - prose poem by Sharron at 🍁Leaves
Take one sunny morning on the back porch. Add two cups of remarkably good coffee. Stir in songs of the finch and the sparrow. Mix in a little book-light from a favorite writer. Season with a kiss, in passing, from your little boy. A recipe for a darned good day.
The perfect recipe!
Delicious, gluten free, low calorie, JOY! With just a little sugar... Ha Ha Ha Thanks
Haha! I can almost hear that as an advertisement. 🤣
A New Place - fiction
Here's my contribution:
https://jenisecook.substack.com/p/a-new-place
Loved this, Jenise. Thanks for sharing. I like the idea of linking stories here as well!
Thanks, Justin!
Just Right - fiction
John rubbed the ribs with spices, coated them with his secret sauce, and set them in the refrigerator to marinate. The next day, John cooked the ribs for six hours. Soon, his kids and grandkids arrived.
“Mmm. How did you season these ribs, Dad?”
“Oh, I just threw something together.”
Sweet story. He poured a lot of love into that meal.
Thanks, Justin. 🤓
Justin, I love your story and am making my way through the others... I didn't get to write mine, although I thought about it a lot... Maybe next time. I think the photograph is perfect, too.
Thanks, Andrea! No worries at all, and no pressure! I always enjoy hearing from you. Isn’t the photograph beautiful? John has some breathtaking work. Can’t wait to share more of it. 😊
Sounds like fun, I can’t wait to read some good autumn stories 🤗
Yes! Same! 😄