Anybody can write, but can you tell a complete story in just fifty words? I think this is a fun way to stretch our storytelling skills.

Here is a refresher on the rules:
Look at the prompt, choose one of your characters, and write a short story that fits both the prompt and the character. You don't have to include the prompt itself in your submission, but it does have to obviously relate.

You get fifty words exactly. No more. No less.

If you have a suggestion for a future 50 Word Challenge prompt, PM me.

So are you up to the challenge? Good. Because here's the next one:
Eh. I've never been a fan.

Isaac. HATED. Malls.

He stormed past a rows of TVs, every screen repeating the image of the same blue figure. His jaw tensed; the words were coming. Knowing made it worse. His fist clenched and acrid trails of smoke rose from his glove as the speakers blared:

“LET IT GOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Heeey, Jack?”

Her voice was a lull in the wind.

“Hnn?” Jack’s attention was pried from her book.

Zinnia kept her head upon Jack’s leg and her gaze forward. She bit her lip. “What are we… am I… to you?”

A careful hand brushed the young woman’s hair back.

“E’ery-sing.”

The firm iridescent shell was warm beneath her head, exactly body temperature, like a bed freshly vacated.

Her eyes and her courage screwed up enough to ask.

What if she was wrong? What if Jac saw them as friends?

She stammered over her question. Bumbling. Bumbling on towards e'ery-sing.

Bliss.

"That guy's from France!" The cocktail effect pulled Jude away from his homework.

Olympics.

"So?" Martial arts? Didn't look like what he was learning.

"He's winning!"

Jude's pencil held his place. France wasn't his nation. That wasn't a sport.

Pride hit when he won. Jude wasn't a fan... until now.

Devon breezed through the mall; he only had forty minutes. Grab the shirt on sale and a sandwich for lunch.

Your urgency never stopped kiosk sales people. "Sir, with record temperatures and humidity stay cool with the AirMax 5000. It's energy efficient!"

"Eh, I've never needed a fan," Tempest winked.

Anybody can write, but can you tell a complete story in just fifty words? I think this is a fun way to stretch our storytelling skills.

Here is a refresher on the rules:
Look at the prompt, choose one of your characters, and write a short story that fits both the prompt and the character. You don't have to include the prompt itself in your submission, but it does have to obviously relate.

You get fifty words exactly. No more. No less.

If you have a suggestion for a future 50 Word Challenge prompt, PM me.

So are you up to the challenge? Good. Because here's the next one:
That's madness.

Devon sat behind his desk like he did too often lately. It was sad really, but he’d seen too much. How tragic the burden but still worse hoping a combination of education and activism would get society to grow. His twin: the fool.

“That’s madness,” he laughed over his scotch.

With senses honed throughout the years, it shouldn’t have happened. But today, he mistepped. He was pounced.

Jorge winced, turned his head from the vile tongue. The owner of the rampant pup ran up, swelling with apologies. “I’m sorry! Down boy!” A cheery pause. “That’s Madness.” The collar reflected such.

"I think I've developed a twitch."

Brown eyes lifted from their laptop screen.

"I haven't slept in, like, two days."

"You what?"

"Well, I had a paper due, and today I have a presentation. I'm in a group with a bunch of flakes."

A laugh. "That's crazy."

Sigh. "That's finals."

It was ridiculous. It was absurd. It was goofy. But most importantly, it was hard.

It was supposed to be for fun! He’d challenged his wife! But still...

How does one write a short story in fifty words? Exactly.

For a man fluent in haiku, fifty was too many.


“...Madness.”

“Every f****n person has the f****n potential to be f****n the worse f****n person because they never f****n attained their f****n best and no f****n person would ever f****n know it.”

“You make no sense.”

“F****n try to prove it otherwise.”