Monday, August 27, 2012

50 Word Worlds

Once upon a time I spied a prompt that told me it wanted me to write stories that contained only 50 words, including their titles; and so I wrote a few... because I always do what I'm told.


A lifetime they’d struggled with understanding one another. He’d believed they’d finally come to a place of peace, and concluded his schizophrenic daughter loved him as much as he’d always loved her.

“Dad” he read as cancer consumed him, “You are the devil incarnate. Stay away from me, forever.”

A Pragmatic Betrothal

“I’m pregnant” she said, anticipating.

“I’m sterile” I said, “did I forget to tell you?”

“Damn you” she screamed, anticipation turning to rage.

“Do you want me that badly?”

“No, but you’re a better meal ticket.”

“I’ve always admired your honesty,” I said; “I’ll think about it.”


All his life Jerry had done the right thing, the honorable thing. He was a good man, compassionate, even benevolent his neighbors would say.

“It wasn’t a con Jerry, just small type,” said Cliff the mortgage banker.

“You’ll not have my home” Jerry said as he pulled the trigger.


He might have screamed until his end, but instead accepted fate and vowed to not waste any moment remaining. Giving ten seconds to each decade he flipped through the images of his life, apologizing, thanking, blessing, loving. Flight thirty five’s engines hit the ground first. Then, for Tom, silence.


Eleanor prayed for rain; for three months. She kept track by drawing little lightning bolts on her calendar for each day of supplication. God heard, but had appointments, and so marked his own calendar with little Eleanors. Then, it rained for ninety days. Floating downstream, Ellie prayed; for revenge.

Name Changes Imminent

The triplets hated being alphabetically first, particularly in school. Each year they hoped an Anderson or Ackman would join their class, but to no avail. The Anyold boys were triply doomed to be the talk of home room as attendance was called… “Anyold, Tom? Dick? and Harry?”


He said “I’ve fifty words to live,
and not one syllable to give!”
And so he danced and sang with glee
a quite creative panoply.
He rewrote War and Peace in verse
then shouted out in Russian curse
“by contest rules I must abide!”
And then contractually, he died.

Going Down

In the beginning, God made the earth; the sun, the moon, amoebae, the platypuses, and everything else.
On His seventh day, He rested.
Later, man began the destruction of the platypuses, amoebae, the earth, the sun, the moon, and everything else.
And on their seventh day, mankind vanished.

Then: King For Show, Now: CEO

Into the fray the hundred rode
the battle turned quite nicely
The king announced from his commode
"My plan hath worked precisely!"

"I knew if I were occupied 
my knights would take the lead! 
As general, I'm disqualified,
I do so hate to bleed!"

Fifty Word Shakespearian Sonnet

What fun, I ask 
in miniscule:
doth verse die by 
the 50 rule?

Doth our our dear readers' 
minds compress
when faced with more
in less and less?

How scurried I
(a madman bent)
must aggrandize
a bloomin' cent!

Cruel end, I fear,
hath come my dears.



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