The weary campers hunkered down in the night’s canvas shelter. Heard the nearby wildlife. Peered through their flap at the illuminating moon glow. Or was it the kitchen light? “Ma! When will the popcorn be ready?” We might throw a spare kernel to the backyard squirrels if feeling especially bold.
Sylvia scanned the horizon from her seat, looking for other boats near her. Spotting none she put the boat in neutral and tossed the package over the side where it floated for a minute and sank.
“One down, two to go,” she said, eyeing the other “packages” on the floor.
They met in the stairwell of a London double-decker on a slippery night. He wanted off at the corner of Shoreditch. She was just getting on. They stood eye to eye on the steps, neither gave way. They instantly understood. It was an impasse, one that could last a lifetime
You’ve encapsulated an entire journey in fifty words. Love all that is suggested here, and the uncertain tone for the future. Thanks so much for sharing, Richard!
Could be a Perfidia moment that drive one crazy. Love has so many characteristics. Chapter six is a wager on a horse with no name. Climax comes later. No three act play. There was a return to west coast. Sunburn peels.
Some discarded, half-eaten meal squishes as he steps behind the dumpster. The rats do not flee. They sit, in the darkness, watching, whiskers twitching.
They know he is not there for them.
He flexes his knees and rolls his shoulders. His ideal perch looms overhead.
What an excellent story and vivid scene, Cassandra! I love how you capture their familiarity with him. Thanks so much for hanging out “by the fire” with us. 🙏
As Rick went in to register, Carrie saw someone’s tent blow right in front of her.
Rick and Carrie had just pulled into the Spring RV park and stopped. Neither could see three feet in front of them. This was the worst West Texas dust storm they had ever witnessed.
Hi Justin, here's my take on that moody photograph.
Will Daylight Ever Return?
Instead of a sunset of salmon shapes in a sea of teal, wildfire smoke dimmed all hope of seeing daylight ever again. I was so desperate for clear skies I traveled into the southern desert and reveled under the full moon, dancing with Joshuas to the music of singing dogs.
I wax circadian, a moon's weight nightly, approaching full, knowing that its dark side—forgiveness, anemia, and lethargy—await. I'll peak soon, then wane. I endure it nightly, when my memory's gravity accrues, then ebbs. Some people I will forget; others I will remember forever, until I get my chance.
I love this, Gerard! There’s a lot to dig into here, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish in fifty words. Well done. Thanks so much for joining in and sharing!
Thanks, kindly, Justin. I look forward to being a frequent contributor here. I've only recently begun microfiction. I find, like poetry, it's difficulty lies in it's need to be perfect in saying in the fewest words exactly what the message is. It's a fascinating exercise that has taught me a lot.
That’s wonderful to hear, Gerard. I look forward to seeing you around! I send out a prompt every other Friday, but I may try once per week with summer approaching. And what you said regarding microfiction is so true. I love writing fifty-word stories for this exact reason. The writer must consider word choice and economizing language to tell a story/deliver a message as succinctly as possible. I’m happy to hear you enjoy them as much as I do!
I stagger outside and stumble into an alley. A few steps later, I stand with pants unzipped and sway back and forth as I pee. I close my eyes and feel the whole world spin. I open my eyes again. The shadow on the wall is pissing back at me.
Love the story and the parenthetical, ha! Thanks for joining in, Rian. I appreciate you stopping by and subscribing. Hope to see you for the next Fifties by the Fire gathering!
The Way of the World, fiction
“Oars up!” our captain bellows. The shoreline looms.
“First excursion, lad?” Skelgar asks. He has three teeth.
I’m silent.
He laughs. Spits. “Pillage and burn, boy. It’s all we’ve got left.”
Our feet hit the sand. I hesitate, sword drawn.
This can’t be the way of the world…can it?
"...He has three teeth." Oh my god, I loved that line!! A great fifty words here, Justin!
Thanks, Sharon! I thought about cutting those four words, then said nah…they’ll make a worthy sacrifice! 🤣
Hey! Watch it! You're talking about my ancestors, here! (Apparently I did not inherit the gene. Phew!)
Ha! I’m sorry, my friend, I meant no offense! 😆 I’m thankful you didn’t inherit the gene, too. Thanks so much for reading!
Man's history in fifty words.
Past Tents/Fiction
The weary campers hunkered down in the night’s canvas shelter. Heard the nearby wildlife. Peered through their flap at the illuminating moon glow. Or was it the kitchen light? “Ma! When will the popcorn be ready?” We might throw a spare kernel to the backyard squirrels if feeling especially bold.
Ha, I love this! And it does perfectly capture backyard tenting/camping. It’s not for the faint of heart! 😆
Yes especially if there are wolf spiders in the grass.
Thanks! I can’t kill someone every time. You and I did a bit of a Freaky Friday switch this prompt! Love the hint of menace.
We sure did, didn’t we? Ha! We’ll take turns going dark.
'Possums, raccoons and skunks, oh my!
That’s about my limit as a city slicker. 😎
Watch out for those squirrels! Love this!
The Sea Excursion: Fiction
Sylvia scanned the horizon from her seat, looking for other boats near her. Spotting none she put the boat in neutral and tossed the package over the side where it floated for a minute and sank.
“One down, two to go,” she said, eyeing the other “packages” on the floor.
I want more, Bill! Great story—very intriguing! Thanks for sharing.
Time to put the thinking hat on!
Special delivery for Davey Jones!
Oh my. There's a mystery.
The quotes around packages is so evocative!
This is a great opening for a mystery novel, Bill. A powerful fifty words!
NIGHT BUS, LONDON, fiction
They met in the stairwell of a London double-decker on a slippery night. He wanted off at the corner of Shoreditch. She was just getting on. They stood eye to eye on the steps, neither gave way. They instantly understood. It was an impasse, one that could last a lifetime
Just lovely, Sharron! A perfect snapshot in time. One that they may very well remember for the rest of their days.
A relationship beginning eye-to-eye, will surely overcome any obstacles. A great love story, Sharron!
Shall we dance lol
(Juxtaposition. Fiction)
Newlyweds head East; first long trip. Vegas pitstop, 109F. Wife hates heat, VW-Bug no A/C, gas/beer. Tempers flare. She reads roadmap, blue rivers as freeways. Fire Valley looms, Rockies rage. Sleep deprived, turn out/nap. Morning, trucks enclose. Sagebrush shields squat.. Shredded road map. Marriage, destination unknown.
You’ve encapsulated an entire journey in fifty words. Love all that is suggested here, and the uncertain tone for the future. Thanks so much for sharing, Richard!
A long road trip should be mandatory for newlyweds. Classic
I can certainly imagine where this marriage is heading.. how many anniversaries? Diddly squat. A honeymoon in fifty words. Love it, Richard!
Could be a Perfidia moment that drive one crazy. Love has so many characteristics. Chapter six is a wager on a horse with no name. Climax comes later. No three act play. There was a return to west coast. Sunburn peels.
Some discarded, half-eaten meal squishes as he steps behind the dumpster. The rats do not flee. They sit, in the darkness, watching, whiskers twitching.
They know he is not there for them.
He flexes his knees and rolls his shoulders. His ideal perch looms overhead.
Time to go to work.
What an excellent story and vivid scene, Cassandra! I love how you capture their familiarity with him. Thanks so much for hanging out “by the fire” with us. 🙏
Thank you for the compliment. I'm enjoying reading everyone's contributions.
By Night-Free verse
I can hear him.
I just can’t see him.
That old barn owl.
I’m in his world now.
He sees with clarity
What is too dark for me.
There is some nameless camaraderie
Between him and me.
I know he can’t help me see.
But somehow,
He helps me understand.
I often feel this same sentiment when out in the woods. You’ve captured their relationship beautifully!
Full Moon King, poem
The full moon
Ate up the stars
And sat, triumphant
In the cobalt sky
Pretending the stars were absent,
He ruled the night
As midnight gave way to dawn
The wide eye of the sun
Illuminated the truth
Like the stars in the sky
Our light has always been here
What a lovely image you’ve conjured, Sharon! The descriptions paint a vivid scene. Beautifully written!
Thank you, Justin! And thank you for the prompt…I always look forward to the “fifties!”
That means a lot, Sharon. Thank you! I always look forward to them, too!
(Let us pray that the wide eye of the sun will illuminate the truth of millions of Americans in the streets June 14...)
Love the optimism
Red Fog. Fiction
As Rick went in to register, Carrie saw someone’s tent blow right in front of her.
Rick and Carrie had just pulled into the Spring RV park and stopped. Neither could see three feet in front of them. This was the worst West Texas dust storm they had ever witnessed.
What a nasty storm. I’m sure they’ve seen all kinds of weather traveling around in their RV. Thanks for sharing, Kim!
Hi Justin, here's my take on that moody photograph.
Will Daylight Ever Return?
Instead of a sunset of salmon shapes in a sea of teal, wildfire smoke dimmed all hope of seeing daylight ever again. I was so desperate for clear skies I traveled into the southern desert and reveled under the full moon, dancing with Joshuas to the music of singing dogs.
Two perfect sentences, in my opinion. Thanks for bringing me there, Sue!
TITLE: GRUDGES (fiction)
I wax circadian, a moon's weight nightly, approaching full, knowing that its dark side—forgiveness, anemia, and lethargy—await. I'll peak soon, then wane. I endure it nightly, when my memory's gravity accrues, then ebbs. Some people I will forget; others I will remember forever, until I get my chance.
I love this, Gerard! There’s a lot to dig into here, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish in fifty words. Well done. Thanks so much for joining in and sharing!
Thanks, kindly, Justin. I look forward to being a frequent contributor here. I've only recently begun microfiction. I find, like poetry, it's difficulty lies in it's need to be perfect in saying in the fewest words exactly what the message is. It's a fascinating exercise that has taught me a lot.
That’s wonderful to hear, Gerard. I look forward to seeing you around! I send out a prompt every other Friday, but I may try once per week with summer approaching. And what you said regarding microfiction is so true. I love writing fifty-word stories for this exact reason. The writer must consider word choice and economizing language to tell a story/deliver a message as succinctly as possible. I’m happy to hear you enjoy them as much as I do!
Take care and see you soon! 😀
Night Excursion (complete and utter fiction 😏)
I stagger outside and stumble into an alley. A few steps later, I stand with pants unzipped and sway back and forth as I pee. I close my eyes and feel the whole world spin. I open my eyes again. The shadow on the wall is pissing back at me.
Love the story and the parenthetical, ha! Thanks for joining in, Rian. I appreciate you stopping by and subscribing. Hope to see you for the next Fifties by the Fire gathering!