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.
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.
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.
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...
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...
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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…’
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.
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
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.
"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...
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.
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
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!"
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.