50 Word Fiction WOO YEAH WOOOO!!!

ruzkin

Decided to bust a few of these out after reading about them on a blog as good practice for keeping concise. Gimme your thoughts and then add a few stories of your own.

---

They say there are complications. They look at him like he’s dirty and touch him with gloved hands. He didn’t ask for this. He hates them. Nobody answers his questions. Is he an animal to them?
They need to learn to respect. He knows a guy who knows a guy.

Closing time. Kate lifts the dirty saucer and there it is. Cold plastic. The raised lettering feels alien under her fingers. Hologram twinkles in the café lights. Mastercard.
She glances around as she palms it, slips it into her apron pocket. Heart tight as a drum. Nobody sees. She hopes.

“Will you kill him?”
“Yeah,” I say. It’s a bluff. I don’t even know how to load the thing.
Weber wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You should make him beg.”
“Yeah.” The gun shakes in my grip. This is stupid. It was only a grand. “Yeah.”

She sees the spark jump from socket to finger and has time enough to feel fear. The stepladder tips over. Her head slaps the floor with a hollow sound.
People crowd around. They’re blocking the light. Her lungs hitch and burn. I’m drowning in air, she realises. That’s not fair.

Linda watches him replace the book on the shelf. His knuckles are hairy. He smiles a perfect smile and looks into her eyes like he knows her.
It’s just like the movies.
That night she lays her glasses on the bedside table and reaches down under the covers and imagines.

Old bones. Old eyes. It’s hard to watch the road. Things blur by so fast. The headlights catch cat’s eyes. At night, the road is a landing strip.
Seventy years of dying slowly. He can’t walk up stairs, but he can slam the accelerator. His hands come off the wheel.

She imagines she can feel the cold through her suit, but she can’t. All in the head. The sun breaks over distant mountains. It looks different in this atmosphere. Crisper.
She takes the first step. Red dust drifts slowly around her boots. The prints will remain after she is dead.

The customer in the blue suit thrusts a knife at John’s face. He squeals and twists away. The man’s eyes are calm. Light catches the blade. “All the money. Now.”
He opens the register and hands the cash over. As the man runs out John realises he has an erection.

Sirens. He looks out the window. The street below is smothered in shadow. He looks up. His pants fill with hot urine.
The sky is blocked by rippling metal. Lights. Hatches and vents and portholes. The floor is humming through his shoes. “Too soon,” he says, and everything goes white.

It has been so long, sitting in the darkness. Months. The manacles chafe. She can’t remember her name anymore.
Something squeals in the basement. Echoes hurt. There is no light. The door is locked and sealed. Nothing gets out. The concrete is so cold.
When will he just kill her?

DeI2anGeD

Ah, a wonderful idea. I really enjoyed "Will you kill him?" and "Old bones." A concise story in 50 words was harder than I thought it'd be, you really feel the importance of every word at that level.

Numbering in leiu of titling:

1.
"Enough?" Willis said. "You believe he's had enough already? Gone soft on me, Arthur?"
It wasn't Arthur's job to give suggestions to an expert. It was Arthur's job to hold the poor, shrieking bastard as Willis created another masterpiece with a kitchen knife.
It was time for a career change.

2.
Estalita caught her breath underneath an old oak tree next to her van. Johnny used to take her here, back when the parking lot was still a park. She thought she would feel different. Nervous or scared, but certainly not as relaxed as she was now. Not after killing Johnny.

3.
Samantha was nervous about taking her Chicago friends out to dinner with Robbie. Since her boyfriend got back from culinary school routine dinners had become ordeals.
"But Robbie, who cares whether the Cashew Chicken is Springfield style or not?" she said.
"Ignorance is no reason to ignore oyster sauce, Sam."

Razjml

I forget the Spanish-language writer who wrote this, but this is often cited as the shorted story ever written:

When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there.

Digg

Razjml wrote: »

When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there.

It's a better story when you interpret "he" as referring to the dinosaur.

The_Scarab

I’m having such a hard time writing a story for this. Getting across all you want to say in fifty words is impossible. I’ve been getting close but nothing I ever write can even get close to the word limit, so I guess I’ll just give up and stick to

ruzkin

Razjml - Shorter than:

For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.

Razjml

I've never liked that one myself, though this contest based on it is pretty fun:
http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/14.11/sixwords.html

Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
- Alan Moore

Iriah

For sale: Baby corpse, never worn.

The_Scarab

Wanted: One baby corpse plus original packaging

Iriah

Let's do lunch. See if we can't find some fresh liver.

liquiddark

I know this isn't the point of the exercise, but then again maybe it is: As lovely as some of these are - particularly ruz's waitress and Old Bones - a lot of them don't have a beginning, middle, and end. Most of them lack everything except a middle, which means they're really just a fragment. The baby shoes thing is an evocation of a story, but that evocation is probably as good as you're ever going to get, that or a William Carlos William poem about photography.

So that's my crit, these're all lettuce and salami and no bread. They're just bits of a story taken out of context.

Having put that out there, here's some attempts.

1
I ask her out, shaking the bottle of Diet Coke. She says no, laughs, walks away. I shake until my arm is sore. I forget to take the cover off. I watch her walk as my soda pops and spits and fizzes itself flat.

2
At the bottom of the bank is a pile of snow. At the peak of the bank is the end of the skidoo's track. Beyond the bank is a cliff. At the bottom of the cliff are rocks. Washing over the rocks are red, red waves.

3
Nanny takes the bread out. We saw through thick, crispy crust and smear salt margarine over toast. Jess finds a doughy spot. Nanny throws the loaf out and disappears into the room, closing the door behind her. Nobody knows what to say.

liquiddark

Razjml wrote: »

Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
- Alan Moore

Thank you for this! That one, and

Tick tock tick tock tick tick.
- Neal Stephenson

Easy. Just touch the match to
- Ursula K. Le Guin

Internet “wakes up?” Ridicu -
no carrier.
- Charles Stross

Digg

I tried to fit two twists into a 50 word story:

I’m defending my father against murder charges.
"Still think I’m innocent?" he asks as the trial continues.
"Yes."
"Even though... I’m not your real father?"
The signs had always been there. He’s Hispanic for one.
But I’ll continue the trial. Of course he’s innocent. After all, I committed the murder.

A fantasy tale, complete with detailed world-building:

The king looks out over his domain and sips at his goblet of wine.
"What a strange flavour," he thinks, "but I like it."
Unbeknownst to him the drink is poisoned and he will soon be dead.
Also, did I mention that there are dragons and that sort of thing?

shutz

"Yes!"
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes..."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!"
"YES!"
"NO!"
She wouldn't admit she was wrong. We'd been arguing for over an hour. Clearly, "No" was the more decisive answer to any question. It's shorter than "Yes,” and it can't lead to much else, unlike "Yes".

shutz

I kept telling him to write more simply, that it would lead to his readers actually being able to understand his stories, and maybe even liking them, for a change, but the man just wouldn’t listen and kept on writing one long run-on sentence, somehow afraid to reach the perio—

shutz

liquiddark wrote: »

I know this isn't the point of the exercise, but then again maybe it is: As lovely as some of these are - particularly ruz's waitress and Old Bones - a lot of them don't have a beginning, middle, and end. Most of them lack everything except a middle, which means they're really just a fragment. The baby shoes thing is an evocation of a story, but that evocation is probably as good as you're ever going to get, that or a William Carlos William poem about photography.

So that's my crit, these're all lettuce and salami and no bread. They're just bits of a story taken out of context.

Most of these stories DO have bread. It's just sliced really really thin. For example, the waitress story has "Closing time." for a beginning (that's all that's needed) and "She hopes." as an ending.

As long as the story moves from one situation to another, it's a story, and not just a tableau or description.

Learning to shave the beginning and end to razor-thin thickness like this is good for short stories, because it gets your readers into the meat of the story quicker, and that's what most readers crave. Same thing with movies: the quicker you can get into the story, the better.

When it comes to the ending, just ask how many people were annoyed at how long the third LotR movie took to actually end. The book is even worse, in that regard, as it has that final bit of conflict that just seems a little ridiculous after the events that came before. (By the way, I still love the books and the movies, I'm just pointing out how many viewers or readers think.)

That's why a lot of stories (and movies) end right after the "problem" that initiated the story is resolved. Some even end BEFORE the resolution is reached, because resolving the problem is not the point of the story.

A Dabble Of Thelonius

Mehh...


My best shot.


It wasn’t real. The mere idea was preposterous. Beyond belief for even the most wild eyed fanatic. In fact, he thought, he wouldn’t even waste time entertaining the ridiculous notion any longer. It is understandable then, that he was quite surprised when it killed him regardless of his firm beliefs.

Drez

There was nothing now.

John sat at the cliff's edge looking out. Then he looked down.

Somehow his pistol and six bullets had survived, and he was going to put them to good use.

He fired five times, listening as the bullets sang humanity's funeral dirge.

And pulled the trigger again.

But he'd miscounted.

Drez

There was no escape.

The box was my life, my prison. There were no doors here. No walls, even. I was free, I could go wherever I wanted, but I was not free, and the box always came with me. No matter what.

I couldn't afford the postage.

Burnage

Rain, smashing against the windows. Her tears mirroring them. She looks up at me with such sorrowful eyes. I ask her if she wants this, her answer predictable. The wetness of her face matches my lips. Tonight, I become reacquainted with the bonesaw.

Drez

Seems like everyone expects a twist nowadays. Everyone. It drives me mad. I can't keep up. I wish I could just go once without people getting all bent out of shape if there's no twist at the end.

"Grey Goose with a twist of lime, please."

I hate my job.

spcmnspff

I have a case of something, dear Doctor, and I'm afraid it's explosive!

Burnage

I hear the scratching. I shudder, remembering my pet terrier. Buried in the garden, now. Or what was left, anyways. I hear the desperate scratching in the walls, and I shudder.

shutz

Talonious_monk wrote: »

Mehh...


My best shot.


It wasn’t real. The mere idea was preposterous. Beyond belief for even the most wild eyed fanatic. In fact, he thought, he wouldn’t even waste time entertaining the ridiculous notion any longer. It is understandable then, that he was quite surprised when it killed him regardless of his firm beliefs.

Reminds me of Douglas Adams. That's a compliment, by the way.

shutz

-- With apologies to Harlan Ellison --


She looked on in mild distaste as I pulled my upper lip down over my chin. The dinner guests were amazed, but she wasn't. When the guests had gone, she had me do it again, and then she pulled out a stapler.
I have no mouth, and I must scream!

MyPoorHands

I like the idea, a lot. I'm in class right now, but I'm gonna try to critique some of these later today.

shutz

You are in a featureless room, where the walls, floor and ceiling are white. There is light in the room, but you can't figure out where it's coming from. You are facing North.
>Look down
You look down. Hey, you can't see your body! You're dead! You win! Congratulations!
Score:1

A Dabble Of Thelonius

Fifty words and they still didn't go where I told them to. Stupid stories.


They told me gently. They told me they had done all they could. They told me I was a very special case. A medical puzzle they didn’t have the pieces to. They told me I would die in this room. I won’t be the first. I won’t be the last.


The man under my bed hasn’t moved in seven days. I can see the tip of one tan wingtip from where I sit hunched against the headboard. He‘ll leave soon. He has to. Who could survive for this long without water? I’ll just wait a little longer. Any moment now.




I'm quite happy with this one, even though I'm almost positive that it's the worst of the whole lot.

Walk a mile in their shoes. Try to see things from their point of view. Do unto other as you would have them do unto you. All well and good, but that would make me the corpse and him the guy with a lot of after hours shoveling to do.

Mai-Kero

"Jack you dumb motherfucker." said Tim, as something creaked beneath him. Jack was standing near a cliff, with an expression somewhere in-between horrified and mildly offended on his face. Tim was standing briefly in the air. He would never vote for Jack to be president of the bridge-building club again.

Crazy Robot

This exercise is actually a great help, I've been blocked lately.

---

The airstrike siren screams in the distance.
Harry’s voice cracks as his trembling hands hold Amanda’s breasts “They’re nice.”
She looks down at his jeans; they look like a dam about to burst.
He moves in for a kiss, but she interrupts him: “Listen, we don’t have all day.”

---

“Thank God he’s asleep. I’ll take him to bed,” he says to his wife.
Dad tucks him in tight and turns on the nightlight.
Alone, finally, mom and dad make love, but the kids’ nightlight goes out.
Little feet storm over the hardwood floors. Mom and dad shudder, “uh, oh!”

Drez

"This exercise is actually a great help, I've been blocked lately," is the last thing the crazy robot said before he blew a gasket and thick oil poured out of him in disgusting relief.

shutz

"I order you to kill me," said the master. The crazy robot simply said, "no." "I am not human," said the master. "OK," said the crazy robot, and then it broke the first law. Oops, the master was human. "Well, barely human," thought the crazy robot, then walked away, whistling.

Spoiler:

I typed this in in one go, and pasted it into Word to get the word count: EXACTLY 50 WORDS!

A Dabble Of Thelonius

This now officially interfering with my real writing. I'm addicted.



She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was perfection. As she came closer, all he ever wanted from life came rushing at him in a wave of heartbreak and regret. As the noose pulled tight, her kiss brushed his cheek and tears ran down his face.

She had always been so obedient . Never straying far when he let her off the leash. Never crying and whining when left out at night. Never begging for scraps or attacking visitors. But here was the leash on the floor and a note saying she was headed for Vegas.

A Dabble Of Thelonius

Dear lord, someone make me stop.

I promised her I would find out who killed her. I would take care of it myself so that he didn’t have a chance to wriggle out with some fancy lawyer. He’ll pay, I whispered to her headstone. When I feel the knife slide in, I realize I had lied.

shutz

One word. OK, that's two words. Six. Dammit, seven. Nine, I mean. Eleven? Twelve words, and I haven't even started. Nineteen, now. Twenty-one, blackjack! Twenty-three, how I love thee. Twenty-nine, sweet love of mine. Thirty-four, I love you more. Thirty-nine, you're so fine. Forty-three, plant a tree. Forty-seven, now we're even.

A Dabble Of Thelonius

Last one. Tried to do this one three or four times earlier but couldn't make it work. I was almost asleep when I figured it out.

They told me it was an accident. That you were cleaning it when it went off. It happens all the time, they said. They returned it along with your other things. It’s covered in smudges and I know they likely will have test fired it. I should probably clean it.

heretoinform

All right, I'm semi-proud of this.

---

The milk is cold. It shocks Harry whenever he takes a sip. The coldness is unexpected, every goddamn time. He keeps his cool, though, and keeps his gaze steady. Can’t slip up now, he thinks. Can’t wince. Can’t show weakness. Not while Julia is watching. Not while Julia is watching.

DeI2anGeD

shutz wrote: »

You are in a featureless room, where the walls, floor and ceiling are white. There is light in the room, but you can't figure out where it's coming from. You are facing North.
>Look down
You look down. Hey, you can't see your body! You're dead! You win! Congratulations!
Score:1

This is absolutely my favorite 50 word short thus far. I'm really impressed with the direction you took with this.

Stakhanov

Hello! Good thread, here's what I came up with:

1.
Tink, tink. Noise of an engine cooling. Popping my cherry on Dad’s Buick backseat.
Hot in here, smell of burning. Weed at Mike’s. Can’t undo seatbelt, arm broken. All I can see is dirt road and shattered windshield; are we upside-down?
Concussion, damn Linebackers.
Scared, wish I’d joined the Navy.

2.
‘Want to come in for coffee?’ Heart racing already, the last thing I need’s caffeine. Breathe man, no booty dance yet. Slow smile, hold her eyes, then agree. One cup drunk, smiling eyes, feeling dizzy. A plastic sheet on the floor? Why is everything spinning? What lovely teeth she has…

3.
Did she look twice? Was that smile at me? Give her the look; she definitely saw that, shy look through the fringe. It’s on! Need a line; what’s she drinking; who’s the friend? On my feet, bookshop sex wizard, ready to charm. She’s reading Da Vinci?

Keep walking till I hit the bathroom.


And these are from my co-worker/ cellmate Ally:

She broke up with me, took my hand and guided me to bed and when we had finished finally she didn’t want me to pull out, didn’t want to roll off me, didn’t want me to close the door behind me, didn’t want to look at me ever again.


The pale man swept the floor and the grey dust flew up into his mouth, through his gullet, resting in his lungs scraping the last parts of pink off of that black mass, launching a red volley that his daughter will mop up tomorrow.

shutz

Run.
Run.
Run.
Stop.
Pant.
Breathe.
Scream.
Run.
Run.
Run.
Stop.
Door!
Open.
Light!
Burns!
See.
People.
Frozen.
Confused...
Touch.
Hard?
Yes.
Statues.
Impressed.
Look.
Movement!
Run.
Catch!
Kid?
Midget?
Leprechaun?
Goblin!
Icky...
Bitten!
Scream!
Pain.
Disappeared.
Where?
Door.
Slam!
Lock.
Walk.
Open?
Locked.
Numbness...
Slowing...
Immobile.
Stuck!
Statue.

Spoiler:

50! Count 'em!

devices

this is a little afterschool special, and it goes a bit over the word limit (54), but i like it.

::edited/fixed

--

The lights flicker through the alley. Somehow he didn’t see himself here before he graduated, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. Sweat rolls from his dirty fingertips as the needle falls away. As the numb takes him, a figure carrying a gleaming object enters his view. Thinking back, he should've locked the gate… but hindsight is twenty-twenty.