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, CNF, or poem) that utilizes the name of a town, city, state, or province.
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 Man by the River, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “They Came, then They Left” 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.
Thank you so much, Jane! I love a good turn or twist as well, but sometimes I simply enjoy tugging at the ole heartstrings. 😄 I’m really happy you liked this one.
I long to see you again, Venezia, looking up to your skies searching for memories, and with moisture in my eyes, recalling them. My soul never really left, and my spirit keeps coming back. You are all of me, piece by piece, cell by cell, tear by tear.
What an excellent story, Jim. There are so many layers to unpack. This is one of those perfect “iceberg” stories where we can only see the bit protruding out of the water, but there’s a ton to think about and examine beneath the surface.
Yes, the title. I originally was going to have the title in parenthesis as well as the last two words (in Scarsdale) to imply that one could be substituted for the other but that seemed a little too much.
Dec 1, 2023·edited Dec 1, 2023Liked by Justin Deming
HOMETOWN, prose poem
I walk alone on the Santa Cruz beach this winter morning. While seabirds startle the icy sky, freezing spume licks at my feet, and the receding tide erases all traces of yesterday.
I leave my prints on the shore. The shore has left its prints across my long, long life.
Those final two lines are perfect, Sharron. My goodness, this is some beautiful writing. The places we love and cherish really do become pieces of our being, don’t they? Thank you for sharing, my friend!
They sure do! I have traveled a lot in my life, seen a lot of the world, but Santa Cruz will always be my home -- as you say, it's a part of my being. Thank you, Justin, for the really fun opportunity..
It's like a concentrated sonnet with the twist still there in the final couplet. You could can it, Bassano's condensed couplets, perfect on a winter night to accompany a creamy pasta sauce made from Campbell's mushrooms :)
Today I witnessed the poetry of the heavens, immense landscapes that humble your being, The smells of “asado”, earth, and wine.
The color of the South Atlantic Great, tango, and sweat. The memory of my first sweetheart... The color of her caramel eyes, her hair flowing in the cool breeze...
"The town reached out to us, invited us to stay. So, we did." Sometimes, you just know. I have memories of traveling to places that reached out to me as if I had stayed long years there in a different life.
Thanks so much for sharing this, Sunil! There are so many strong images scattered throughout. I also agree with F & F. Going to dig into some research about the Dhanbad coal mines.
Concord is my home. Not Concord in Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Nebraska, or New Hampshire. And not in New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee,Texas, Vermont, Virginia, West Virginia, or Wisconsin.
The situation of child labour in India still prevalent even though illegal. The powerful landlords are responsible for such a scenario. That's what has triggered violent protests in the form of Naxalite movements which aim to get equality for such acts of atrocities. It's a very sad and dangerous situation...
I love this...very eerie and atmospheric. I just started reading the novel Thrust by Lidia Yuknavitch. Your story captures a similar sentiment. Thanks so much for sharing! Check back in this Friday for a new prompt/hangout around the fire. The post will go live at 3:00 PM EST. Usually there are a fair amount of contributors and readers!
New Mexico Tourism Board posters: Land of Enchantment—caverns, bats, turquoise and meth. The woman ahead of me, chugging a chocolate milk. Everyone on their phones. The air thick with cinnamon and burnt coffee. A pink camo backpack, “Whitney” stitched across the front pocket in silver glitter. Ponytails and bubblegum.
After a lifetime of living in NYC, I am now too far away for a casual visit. So I go to The Action Kid on YouTube and get my NYC fix. The Halloween Parade, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree . . .
Looking Back, fiction
“Never made it to Vienna, did we, dear?”
“No. I don’t think we did.”
“Rome, either.”
“Or Paris.”
The kettle whistles. The old man ambles to it, pours the water into two chipped mugs.
She eases the tea bags in. “And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, honey.”
Very sweet! I was expecting a different turn in the story, and absolutely love this one. A lovely long shared life, no regrets.
Thank you so much, Jane! I love a good turn or twist as well, but sometimes I simply enjoy tugging at the ole heartstrings. 😄 I’m really happy you liked this one.
Ah, very cute ... gentle reflections. Love this
Thank you, Barrie! 😀
Awwww. Sweet!
Thanks, Sharron. 😊
Oh, that's good, Justin. There does come a time (I'm not there yet!) when you withdraw and reflect without regret. At least I hope so.
I hope so too, Jim. Thanks a bunch!
The Blues, fiction
I’d seen it done in movies, so I gave it a shot.
Made it to the ceremony, but she married him anyway.
“Fuck. I should have never come to Memphis,” I said.
Missed the flight back home and had to stay another night.
The hotel shower had no hot water.
Now that is a series of unfortunate events. Excellent stuff, Clancy, thanks!
Dang! One misery after another. And the grand finale: excellent.
Thanks Jane!
That last line. The final insult!
Bummer! I've been in that hotel before. Once was enough.
Poem to a sinking canal town.
I long to see you again, Venezia, looking up to your skies searching for memories, and with moisture in my eyes, recalling them. My soul never really left, and my spirit keeps coming back. You are all of me, piece by piece, cell by cell, tear by tear.
Beautiful, moving, and somber, all at once. Thank you so much for sharing, Rene.
Absolutely. I'm so glad you liked it!
Very deep, very emotional. Love it.
WITHOUT ME- FICTION
I never would have thought
She'd find herself in Scarsdale.
Too stuck up, she used to say.
GPS says this is the house.
A boy and a girl chase each other with squirt guns.
The girl looks a bit like her.
Never would have believed
She'd be happy in Scarsdale.
What an excellent story, Jim. There are so many layers to unpack. This is one of those perfect “iceberg” stories where we can only see the bit protruding out of the water, but there’s a ton to think about and examine beneath the surface.
Thank you so much for sharing!
Thank you Justin. And thanks for the opportunity here at fifties by the fire!
I like that sense of ‘looking in’. The moment before the meeting. Lovely stuff, Jim.
The title is so important here. Now I am wondering ... does the boy,maybe, look like him?
Yes, the title. I originally was going to have the title in parenthesis as well as the last two words (in Scarsdale) to imply that one could be substituted for the other but that seemed a little too much.
I like it just as it is.
Happy Demons, Fiction, Tragedy
Spring in his step, Matthew looked
like a man possessed by a happy demon as he smiled his way to the restaurant.
He was too busy mentally rehearsing
the question and imagining her reply when he crossed the busy New York City street.
The ring never left his pocket.
Oh no...didn’t see that coming! Great twist, Chris.
You know me, I love a twist! Thank you.
Aw, nice build up. Good sleight of hand.
Thank you! I love a little twist
Me too. A twist in the tail. And the tale!
Yikes!
The exact response I was looking for. Thank you!
a ringer! reminds me of what the famous male spinster in Elko Nevada once said,"
Give me a ring some time."
Losers Weepers (Semi-historical fiction)
‘You heard? They’ve found him.’
‘Who?’
‘The hunchback king. Under a car park, in Leicester.’
‘That shithole? What’s he doing there?’
‘Dumped after Henry’s men killed him. Was a chapel, see.’
‘So Richard of York’s finally coming home.’
‘No, they’re citing the old law.’
‘Which bloody law’s that?’
‘Finders keepers…’
Nicely done. What a great technique for such a short story: asking questions to propel the story forward. Clever and creative, Jon! Really enjoyed it.
Haha, deliciously irreverent
HOMETOWN, prose poem
I walk alone on the Santa Cruz beach this winter morning. While seabirds startle the icy sky, freezing spume licks at my feet, and the receding tide erases all traces of yesterday.
I leave my prints on the shore. The shore has left its prints across my long, long life.
Those final two lines are perfect, Sharron. My goodness, this is some beautiful writing. The places we love and cherish really do become pieces of our being, don’t they? Thank you for sharing, my friend!
They sure do! I have traveled a lot in my life, seen a lot of the world, but Santa Cruz will always be my home -- as you say, it's a part of my being. Thank you, Justin, for the really fun opportunity..
It's like a concentrated sonnet with the twist still there in the final couplet. You could can it, Bassano's condensed couplets, perfect on a winter night to accompany a creamy pasta sauce made from Campbell's mushrooms :)
A delicious comment, FJ. "Bassano in a can". I LIKE it!
Every line sparkles like ice. And the brilliant way you wrap it up. The footsteps! Perfectly executed. Best of the week.
Wowza! Thanks, F&F. Your comment made my day.
Saying it as it is! Happy weekend
Dry, you say? (Poem)
House hunting
For a French fancy
High and low
To and fro
Pop the cork
Turn left at the fork
Near Champagné-le-Sec
Cava, Crémant, where next?
Let bubbles foam
We found a home
The name means dry Champagne
So, ‘what’s in a name’
‘Dry’ you say?
‘Drip, Drop’. Rain, go away
This is lovely, Barrie. I enjoyed the clever little twist at the end, too. Thanks so much for sharing!
You’re very kind and encouraging. It was my second version. Thanks for the prompt. Looking forward to catching up on everyone else’s.
"House hunting for a French fancy" "Drip, Drop. Rain, go away" This is so playful!
I was worried that it was too light, trivial even ... but 'playful' I like. Thank you for the encouragement, Sharron.
Cowboy In The Dark (poem)
Texas' moon hangs in the sky,
dancing sweet silver,
like a watchful eye.
The cowboy is alone,
not a searching coyote cry,
just this dark pasture to roam.
His painted horse by his side,
his gun on his hip,
The warmth of tooled leather cowhide,
this lone cowboy's proud ship.
I can’t help but feel like you’ve transported me there beside this cowboy. Very atmospheric - great job!
Thank you! 😊
I can hear the coyotes cry!
Very evocative. I can smell the tooled cowhide, clearly see the watchful eye of the moon.
"Ode to Buenos Aires", Journal
Today I witnessed the poetry of the heavens, immense landscapes that humble your being, The smells of “asado”, earth, and wine.
The color of the South Atlantic Great, tango, and sweat. The memory of my first sweetheart... The color of her caramel eyes, her hair flowing in the cool breeze...
A captivating and powerful read!
Thank you, Justin! That means a lot.
What a gorgeous memory.
Feels Like Home-fiction
We intended to drive through Hillsboro.
It’s one of those towns where they say, “Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.”
Well, we didn’t blink.
Houses and buildings can be mere structures, or they can nurture the soul. The town reached out to us, invited us to stay. So, we did.
I love how you’ve captured this! What a wonderful “fifty”.
"The town reached out to us, invited us to stay. So, we did." Sometimes, you just know. I have memories of traveling to places that reached out to me as if I had stayed long years there in a different life.
Warm. Gentle.
Welcome to the pit of death - The Dhanbad coal mines
50 words poem
Coal boy stared at the golf club
Mother lay dead whilst they splurged soda club
Time to rally folk for the battle
Against those who mistreated his kin like cattle
Finally Dhanbad would regain it's lost glory
Blood and grime would finally be at peace amidst its past horrific gory
Sunil Anand
Thanks so much for sharing this, Sunil! There are so many strong images scattered throughout. I also agree with F & F. Going to dig into some research about the Dhanbad coal mines.
What a fascinating insight to a world I don’t know. Thank you
Hear my Brooklyn state of mind
Open memory's box and find
The project Im from most folks thought books
Fine tools for smashing roaches everywhere we looked
Richest landlords of our nation
Ate roaches with mustard and elation
Time for awards
They came forward, we were floored
cryingONGRATULATIONS!"
That line about the projects/books being fine tools to smash roaches will stick with me for a long time. Thanks for sharing, Ernie!
Very good.
FLYING, fiction
As I approached the edge of Niagara Falls, the water's roar intensified.
Suddenly, I heard a chilling voice.
“Fly!” It said.
I turned, but saw no one.
Panic gripped me, as shadows danced along the mist.
The falls seemed to beckon as a portal to horrors opened and I flew.
Ooh, I like this. It gave me chills! I’d love to read more of this story. Thanks so much for sharing!
Whoa. Mesmerisingly creepy.
Concord, CNF
Concord is my home. Not Concord in Alabama, Arkansas, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Nebraska, or New Hampshire. And not in New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee,Texas, Vermont, Virginia, West Virginia, or Wisconsin.
The one in California.
This gave me a good laugh, James. 😄 I had no idea so many Concords exist!
Clever! I live in a town that there is only one of in the US, makes searching much easier.
title: CHILDHOOD MEMORIES CNF
Our parents would take us into NYC to see the Christmas sights.
What I remember most: St Patrick's Cathedral had a big Nativity scene, women would leave
their holiday corsages back when they were popular. So wonderful, to leave a
sparkling part of you at the feet of Baby Jesus.
Very sweet story, Sharon. I enjoy popping into NYC every now and then, but it’s extra special around the holidays.
The situation of child labour in India still prevalent even though illegal. The powerful landlords are responsible for such a scenario. That's what has triggered violent protests in the form of Naxalite movements which aim to get equality for such acts of atrocities. It's a very sad and dangerous situation...
It is what it is. Acceptance bears bliss. Love this. No regrets 🙏🍀🤗
When The Ferries Stopped, poetic fiction
~
One night the Internet went down
and the cell towers went silent
and the fog swept in
We awoke to a familiar Island
made strange
and alone
with voices vanished
and our minds shifting
like the sea
new thoughts or
very old
Yonder Island! Who are we?
I love this...very eerie and atmospheric. I just started reading the novel Thrust by Lidia Yuknavitch. Your story captures a similar sentiment. Thanks so much for sharing! Check back in this Friday for a new prompt/hangout around the fire. The post will go live at 3:00 PM EST. Usually there are a fair amount of contributors and readers!
Hope to see you there! 😀
Thank you so much for your comment, and for this opportunity to gather round the fire and join in the fun! I will indeed check back on Friday. Cheers!
Sounds wonderful, Jane! Oh, of course. It’s really a lot of fun. 😊 Looking forward to it!
Sunport: Albuquerque || CNF
New Mexico Tourism Board posters: Land of Enchantment—caverns, bats, turquoise and meth. The woman ahead of me, chugging a chocolate milk. Everyone on their phones. The air thick with cinnamon and burnt coffee. A pink camo backpack, “Whitney” stitched across the front pocket in silver glitter. Ponytails and bubblegum.
PS: John's photo this month is outstanding!
After a lifetime of living in NYC, I am now too far away for a casual visit. So I go to The Action Kid on YouTube and get my NYC fix. The Halloween Parade, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree . . .
Love this, Amie! Couldn’t agree more with you regarding John’s photo. John designed my book cover...can’t wait for you to see it! It’s beautiful.