FIFTY WORD STORY – At the Library

I am in the eleventh hour. The piles of papers have become mountains of material for my essay, but the words just aren’t coming to me. My eyes are getting heavy, and the yellow lights of the library flicker with fatigue. Maybe a short nap will loosen this mental knot…

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Basketball Kid

Early every morning, I walk down First Street. There is a rundown park, and everyday I see a kid caked in sweat. His hands are coarse with dirt from dribbling. And everyday, without fail, he will look over at me, step behind the chalky white lines, and sink a three.

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Praying

I felt the tug of memory when I knelt to pray. The return of hope against the storm; I can feel its shield against the rains as they batter the church walls. A warmth that is not my own runs through my fingertips, up my elbows, and into my chest.

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Breathing Memory

A clean slate. A fresh breath, like spring returning after a mental hibernation. The lungs fill with a taste of mint and honey. A pause. Then the slow release; the walking fear, striding, running, sprinting. Compressed like a bag between clammy palms. All gone into the unknown. A clean slate.

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Earthquake

Panic seized the trees as the rumbling started. The birds took to the skies as the mountains rained tears of rock down the sides of their faces. Even the rivers began to shiver as the banks pulled their sides apart. It seemed like all was ruined—then everything grew still.

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FIFTY WORD STORY – After Hours

Everything was blurry. It was like looking down the street through a glass of water. Each step felt like trudging through knee-deep mud, in the rain. My head was spinning, then suddenly the ground was rushing up to greet me. The darkness took me as hot blood filled my mouth.

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Tag

I sped down the road like a bullet from a gun. The wind whistled past me as I cut through the air. My feet stamped the concrete hard as I whirled to the right. Everything was still. I saw the hand reaching for my back graze my shoulder.

“You’re it!”

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Royalty

He was royalty; clothed in the red and gold of the dynasty his family had brought to life fifty years ago. He passed beneath the golden arched entryway, down the polished white tile floor, to the first person he spotted. He smiled at them and said, “one Big Mac, please.”

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – The Hook

The hook dangles, shining in the aquatic light. The dead worm seems to writhe in the current as unsuspecting fish swim by. A small one spies it and—his curiosity getting the better of him—he takes a bite. Suddenly, he is ripped from the water into the murderous air.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Hunting

The hunt was afoot. The whipping mix of leaves and wind wound through the air as his footsteps crunched the dirt. The trees were dense, and his sidelong glances at were cut short by gnarled roots. Suddenly, a large one snagged him and he hit the ground. The deer escaped.

——

 

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