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) about one of the following:
Being stranded.
The ship that didn’t sail.
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: Neighbors, Fiction)
The title does not factor into the word count.
Good luck and have fun. Happy writing!
Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “Barca Sei” 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 remember, Mama, when I was five, you'd lay me down on the kitchen drainboard to wash my hair in the sink, a washrag over my eyes to keep out the soap.
Now you’ve gone, and I'm stranded here with a thousand small memories of how much I was loved.
Thanks, Sharron. I've been dealing with a lot of ongoing health issues. Haven't felt like even popping in to read for a very long time. Today I pushed myself and the first thing I saw was Justin's prompt. It's also the first time I've written in nearly a year. I'm so grateful for Fifties by the Fire. It felt good to write.
Dascha, when I saw your name pop up it brought a smile to my face. Just getting caught up over here with comments from the past day or so, but I wanted to say hello before I made my through them!
Take care—hope you are doing okay. 🙏 Thank you so much for stopping by. 😊
The prompt is merely a vehicle to take your words and ideas wherever they’d like to go. No right or wrong here, my friend. I think it’s a well written (and layered) poem!
The car quit in a desolate part of town. We put the hood up. A few cars came by. One guy pulled up behind our car. He blew his horn until he finally realized, there was no one in the car. He didn’t see us standing over on the sidewalk?!
I agree with Justin. This is awesome... and expanding on it will be even better. Which gives me a crackpot idea for a book of 50s and stories spawned from them juxtaposed.
The elevator malfunctioned and she was late for her interview. The network was down. In the dim light the other passenger was feeling claustrophobic. She regained her composure and loosened his tie. The office receptionist led her to a room.The interviewer spotted his tie and she got the job!
The way I saw it, her pocketing of the tie was accidental and in the panic moment. Not realizing that this same person would turn out to be her interviewer. And he in turn found her response to the crisis very efficient. Hence the job was clinched. So providence in malfunction...
I think it's easy to read this as being only about the U.S., but really it's about the world. The sham of democracy in Russia, Belarus, Hungary. The assault on democratic countries, both physical and political. It's open warfare in the U S. right now, but insidious in my own home, Canada, where Pollievre isn't that far from Trump in deology. He just packages himself better.
ChoChoSan was a brisk 33-foot ketch. We polished her teak and brass, shared her decks and forward berth. The wind filling her sails weekends and holidays. But always fighting to windward, we let the relationship beneath her golden sails tarnish and rust. The marriage never really filled in the sail.
Also, Annie, I’m just connecting the dots—thanks for the very kind Goodreads review you left a couple of weeks ago! It made my day reading that. And thank you for your support of my book! 😊
I’m stranded in a Holiday Inn Express, three hours down the highway from home, five more hours to go. What is keeping me here? Waffling… fear of what’s ahead… fear of what’s behind. The hope in Keurig coffee doesn’t even work. I gaze in the mirror at bleary, pleading eyes.
It wasn't the boat that caused the end but the end of us that caused the boat's end. "Neil Diamond" was optimistic and in retrospect telling. Relationships can't live on schmatlzy sugar, they need a "Wind Beneath My Wings". I had chosen a speed boat, maybe it was already destined.
STRANDED, prose poem
I remember, Mama, when I was five, you'd lay me down on the kitchen drainboard to wash my hair in the sink, a washrag over my eyes to keep out the soap.
Now you’ve gone, and I'm stranded here with a thousand small memories of how much I was loved.
Beautiful story, Sharron! 💜
Dealing with that now. Thank you for sharing your story.
Give yourself lots of time. The more you loved, the longer you grieve.
Beautiful 😍
Oh! Thank you, Sunil.
Sharron, this brought up memories for me. The washrag made them so clear. Thank you.
Thanks, Dascha. Long time no "see". I hope you are well.
Thanks, Sharron. I've been dealing with a lot of ongoing health issues. Haven't felt like even popping in to read for a very long time. Today I pushed myself and the first thing I saw was Justin's prompt. It's also the first time I've written in nearly a year. I'm so grateful for Fifties by the Fire. It felt good to write.
Dascha, when I saw your name pop up it brought a smile to my face. Just getting caught up over here with comments from the past day or so, but I wanted to say hello before I made my through them!
Take care—hope you are doing okay. 🙏 Thank you so much for stopping by. 😊
Thanks, Justin. I hope all is well with you and the family as well.
Unpromised Dreams-Poem
after many nights
of you sharing
your dreams i
thought we could
brave the Dark,
Cold waters. but
when you couldn't
hear me over
the waves only
the Whispers. they
must have Told
You You Could
not make it
because when they
found you they
said you tried
to Fly.
This is so powerful! It held me breathless. 💜
I may have been too abstract with the prompt.
The prompt is merely a vehicle to take your words and ideas wherever they’d like to go. No right or wrong here, my friend. I think it’s a well written (and layered) poem!
At Sea, poem
Drift I must, as my main-sail
Broke in the storm,
And these arms are too tired to paddle.
I shake the last drops of water from my oil-skin,
Praying for deliverance
As days and nights meld.
Stupid being that I am;
Arrogance my undoing;
Thinking the sea was my friend.
A gem of a poem, Caro!
Wow! Excellent metaphor Caro.
This is so evocative, Caro. Wonderful!
Being Stranded, Creative Non-Fiction
The car quit in a desolate part of town. We put the hood up. A few cars came by. One guy pulled up behind our car. He blew his horn until he finally realized, there was no one in the car. He didn’t see us standing over on the sidewalk?!
Tough day. But at least you got a great story out of it!
Love it Matthew.
Oops, ha! Great story, Matthew. Thanks so much for sharing.
Stranded or Worse { Fiction }
Light me, Willie.
Remember when mom's boyfriend was supposed to take us to Cedar Point?
That hop over that ditch was better than the coasters we missed.
I'll light my own smoke.
Think I'm in shock.
It was a fun ride.
The axle’s probably destroyed.
Willie? Can you hear me?
Oh man, you’ve gotta write a flash version of this one. Love the story, Jimmy.
Working on tonight's story right now. It can be a really good one but I'm letting myself get distracted. 🤡
Carry on, sir! 😄
I agree with Justin. This is awesome... and expanding on it will be even better. Which gives me a crackpot idea for a book of 50s and stories spawned from them juxtaposed.
Stasis--Poem
Ships are safest while in port.
There is protection from storms,
Access to all my needs.
Ships are safest while in port.
Going nowhere, seeing nothing,
Rigging decaying from nonuse.
I set sail long ago,
Destination uncertain.
I’ve weathered storms and
Becalmed seas.
But sailing will always be my life.
Ahh, lovely stuff, RI. I love the progression in each stanza. The final stanza is perfection! 👏
Excellent. An allegory for life!
Providence malfunction ( fiction )
The elevator malfunctioned and she was late for her interview. The network was down. In the dim light the other passenger was feeling claustrophobic. She regained her composure and loosened his tie. The office receptionist led her to a room.The interviewer spotted his tie and she got the job!
Haha! Well played on her part. Another fun one, Sunil—great stuff.
The way I saw it, her pocketing of the tie was accidental and in the panic moment. Not realizing that this same person would turn out to be her interviewer. And he in turn found her response to the crisis very efficient. Hence the job was clinched. So providence in malfunction...
ha ha ha. Watch out for these women - all's fair in love and war and job hunting...
Lol!!
Well done! Providence provides.
Democracy, Dystopian Fiction?
She was meant to sail a thousand seas, to carry us to lands of freedom and equality.
All of us. Not just the few, the wealthy. Not just rich white men.
She lies, broken, rotting, on desert sands. A cry in the dark, a whisper, a tear for freedom lost.
Now this is a story that will stop anyone in their tracks. Powerful, Dascha. I can only hope better days are ahead for all of us.
Thank you, Justin. Me too.
Wow. She does lie broken. But undefeated.
I think it's easy to read this as being only about the U.S., but really it's about the world. The sham of democracy in Russia, Belarus, Hungary. The assault on democratic countries, both physical and political. It's open warfare in the U S. right now, but insidious in my own home, Canada, where Pollievre isn't that far from Trump in deology. He just packages himself better.
The Ship that Never Sailed, Memoir
ChoChoSan was a brisk 33-foot ketch. We polished her teak and brass, shared her decks and forward berth. The wind filling her sails weekends and holidays. But always fighting to windward, we let the relationship beneath her golden sails tarnish and rust. The marriage never really filled in the sail.
Annie, this is such a heartbreaking piece. I love the metaphor used here and how much you were able to fit into fifty words. Stunning!
Thank you so much. I’m so grateful for the wonderful feedback. That’s very encouraging.
Also, Annie, I’m just connecting the dots—thanks for the very kind Goodreads review you left a couple of weeks ago! It made my day reading that. And thank you for your support of my book! 😊
Oh, I love the imagery here.
Thank you. The feedback is greatly appreciated.
Stranded: poem, CNF
how could you just have died on me?
two days before project launch
so much for making millions
and changing the world
it needed the force of your personality
to push it to great success
or make it into what it could be
I am lost without your momentum forward
Heart wrenching, Sharon, but beautifully executed.
What a great take on this prompt, Deb! Stranded indeed!
I’m stranded in a Holiday Inn Express, three hours down the highway from home, five more hours to go. What is keeping me here? Waffling… fear of what’s ahead… fear of what’s behind. The hope in Keurig coffee doesn’t even work. I gaze in the mirror at bleary, pleading eyes.
I know the feeling all too well, Karen. I’m with Sharron—forward is the only option!
I really appreciated the prompt, and the timing when it came was perfect. Writing the 50 words relieved the stress, and was cathartic 🤗
That last line is brilliant, Karen. Go forward, girl. They are waiting for you.
Aww you’re always so encouraging, Sharron! 🥰
I can feel the despair, Karen!
Splitsville, fiction
It wasn't the boat that caused the end but the end of us that caused the boat's end. "Neil Diamond" was optimistic and in retrospect telling. Relationships can't live on schmatlzy sugar, they need a "Wind Beneath My Wings". I had chosen a speed boat, maybe it was already destined.
Love the opening line, DW. Powerful story!
The speed boat is perfect. I picture the protagonist departing the relationship at speed.
So many wonderful stories and poems here. Well done everyone! ❤️
So many excellent stories and poems, Deb! I’m with you! 😊