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: Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Write a fifty-word story (or work of CNF, or poem) that uses three or more words from “Shipping Up to Boston” - a song by the Dropkick Murphys. The lyrics are below:
I’m a sailor peg / and I lost my leg / climbing up the topsails / I lost my leg
I’m shipping up to Boston (whoa) / I’m shipping off / to find my wooden leg!
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: I’ll Always Have My Music, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing and listening!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “No Massae’” 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.
We carried the wooden dresser across the Boston Commons. I didn’t have money for movers. A Duck Tour guide spotted us. He made a wisecrack about whether I had any panties in the dresser. I lost my concentration and let the dresser drop, damaging one of the legs. Sorry, grandma.
Mar 17, 2023·edited Mar 17, 2023Liked by Justin Deming
USS Old Wood vs HMS Steadfast, poem turned fiction*
Climbing up the top sails to earn my coin and glory. Two ships joined at the hip and I saw every man fight. I share their stories with honor so that I can avoid my own. I have to turn them right side up because I was hanging upside down
***
*I originally wrote this as a poem with each sentence being two lines but I was unable to format it on substack so the whole thing looked...wrong. So now it's a narrative.
The day had come now. His orders came in and he would be gone for up to nine months. The sailor was shipping up to Boston. His family was heartbroken. Tears rolled down his face as his wife and son waved from shore. His wife’s love was frozen in time.
The Doting Wife, Fiction
My fair lass doesn't appreciate my vocation as a sailor on the high seas.
She says those dark waters are my mistress, an accusation I tried to deny.
Her temper, a dull axe and my wooden peg leg are evidence of her conviction.
Not all monsters swim in the ocean.
Land Legs, a poem
My days on the sea are done
No more climbing the shrouds
No more glassing the horizon
No setting the topsail
I sigh and drag myself from bed now
On worn wooden legs
Bent and wobbly
Hanging on to the furniture
Hoping only to navigate as far as the coffeepot
College Days, Fiction
We carried the wooden dresser across the Boston Commons. I didn’t have money for movers. A Duck Tour guide spotted us. He made a wisecrack about whether I had any panties in the dresser. I lost my concentration and let the dresser drop, damaging one of the legs. Sorry, grandma.
USS Old Wood vs HMS Steadfast, poem turned fiction*
Climbing up the top sails to earn my coin and glory. Two ships joined at the hip and I saw every man fight. I share their stories with honor so that I can avoid my own. I have to turn them right side up because I was hanging upside down
***
*I originally wrote this as a poem with each sentence being two lines but I was unable to format it on substack so the whole thing looked...wrong. So now it's a narrative.
Leaving, Fiction
The day had come now. His orders came in and he would be gone for up to nine months. The sailor was shipping up to Boston. His family was heartbroken. Tears rolled down his face as his wife and son waved from shore. His wife’s love was frozen in time.
Bad Date, Fiction
“I lost my leg.”
“Your what?”
“My leg, my leg!”
“Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
“I’m shipping off!”
“Where the hell are you going? We haven’t even ordered yet.”
“I’m shipping up to Boston!”
“Christ. Are you high?”
“I’m a sailor, Peg!”
“Ugh. It’s Maureen, and this date is over.”
BEHR Equilibrium
Out of an agonizing, revolving horizon
Eye level of lies
Climbing to find
Blips of perspective, but no depth
Emerging clarity to settle a mind
My mind
.Balance.
Loss is love and I love
Tangible yearning to feel
I can feel. elated, energized, aware, light, cold, open
AWAKE.