50 Word Fiction WOO YEAH WOOOO!!!

Sakeido

shutz wrote: »

Professor Threelemmings had finally completed his device. "This device," he announced to his assistants, "will rid the world, nay, the entire universe, of something completely unneeded. Activate the device." There was a sudden flash! "What's disappeared?" asked an assistant. "Nothing, it seems," said a disappointed Professor Twolemmings, after looking around.

Ahh, I see what you did there. Nice!

He could recall a time not long ago, where a man could walk to the corner store and buy a drink for a nickel, without any kind of hassle. He figured it might still be possible - if one had packed properly. He was going to need more guns.

kingcelery

He didn’t know if it was the fear, caffeine, or looming deadline that drove him on in and endless precession of frenzied typing. From across the room his friend tossed a fistful of feces that elegantly arced in the air. ‘My God!’ Chimp-Chimp thought, ‘We’re just a bunch of apes!’.

shutz

"xpwwtgqqqqqqqqqqq," typed Koko the monkey with a human on its back. "Get off my back, I'm working," it thought. The research assistant moved on to the next monkey.

Koko pulled out the sheet and threw it away. He used the next sheet to continue his play, "Planet of the Monkeys"

Digg

The Amazing Wentworth
in
High Treachery

Wentworth waved to the other helicopter. A thousand feet below, the burning acid tank filled 5th Avenue. They swung out. Wentworth released his trapeze and glided towards Franz.
“Goodbye,” Franz said, drawing a pistol.
Investigators said the thousand foot fall into burning acid caused Wentworth’s death. Franz had finally won.


If you have enjoyed this, go to your local library and ask what other trapeze-based murder stories are available.

shutz

He was never one to read between the lines. Until now, that is. Fighting his way through some badly-written medieval sword-and-sorcery tale and barely surviving, his mind kept thinking up synonyms to the expression "cruel and unusual punishment." He never expected anything like this, when the judge said, "Book him."

Fearghaill

So many definitions have changed - piracy isn't even theft anymore, or so the claim goes. Virtual property, private island "nations", it's a lot to grasp. It's not stealing, it's "copyright infringement". Semantics, if you ask me. As I push him over the bow, I wonder - Is keelhauling still considered murder?

eric.

ruzkin wrote: »

“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.”

wow, lots of impact in this one especially considering its length. this is a really interesting idea, i've written a few but none I really deem worthy enough of posting.

kingcelery

"Book him" Cruel hatefull words done with literary violence in mind. And from his podium the feuer gazed down with vicious comtept. How dare those savages speak in the vernacular. "From this day forth a new dawn has come, and the Grammar Nazis shall take their rightful place on earth."

Vic

Sarah woke up and realised that the monster was still there. The head hung over her, big eyes in an otherwise featureless head watching her. The fear of the previous night had drained from her and she lay still, waiting.

A mouth formed in the creatures face.
"Hello." it said.



Dammit I need another 20 words. I'll try again later.

Digg

Troubadour Montgomery
in
Cuisine de Franz
being
a tale of danger and excitement in fifty words
and
Book Two of The Amazing Wentworth Saga

Franz trapezed nonchalantly from his den to the kitchen, where he prepared a snow leopard steak sandwich.
“You are a murderer Franz.”
He recognized the voice: Troubadour, the Amazing Wentworth’s illegitimate son. A pistol was cocked.
Franz spun and launched a steak knife into Troubadour’s chest. Franz had won again.

shutz

It's all in the title
Being a tale told in 50 words, wherein the protagonist, a man named Arcturus Morgenstern (Third of the name) is eminently surprised to discover that the body of his wife, who he'd found murdered not five minutes previously, is now animated with an unholy life, and for whatever reason is burning important-seeming papers that Arcturus had been working on previous to the gunshots that had seemingly (but not conclusively) killed his wife.

The gunshot startled him. Turning, he found his wife, dead of a gunshot wound. He ran out, looking for the assassin. Upon his return, his wife's body was busy burning his writings. Taking the last sheet from her undead hands, he nervously reads off the title: "How to Make Zombies".

Spoiler:

I hope this illustrates how abusing long titles somewhat defeats the whole purpose of the 50-word story exercise. Nice try, though.

Threelemmings

shuntz: The super title took it from "pretty cool" to "sweet awesome." Your plan has been subverted for the greater humor of mankind.

eric. wrote: »

this is a really interesting idea, i've written a few but none I really deem worthy enough of posting.

Do it anyways! Mine isn't even that fantastic, I just wrote it because "rain is just freshly squeezed sunshine" has been bouncing around in my head for 2+ weeks and I had to get it out somehow.

shutz

"Ideas are like freshly-squeezed brains," he said, to no one in particular. They ignored him; he would come up with stupid sayings like that every few minutes. "Words are the priceless excrement of a well-formed mind," he later added. The words floated above him, then fell on him like diarrhea.

babylonfreek

"Words have power," he said, plugging himself in the dictionary. "You know, mightier than the sword and whatnot." He flipped a switch and basked in the surge of energy. "With words, you can rule the world!" he yelled
He died of electrocution. The plug was only rated for 40 W(ords).

Sarcastro

"The pen is mightier than any sword!"

"How right you are, good sir." the Commandant said, plunging his blade deep into the poet's chest. "Death is only an illusion."

"Seems to 'ave 'im fooled though, 'asn't it then?" A snicker went through the group of unwashed men at his back.

shutz

The Commandant pulled his sword out of the Poet's chest. A tap on his shoulder made him turn in annoyance. "What is it?" he growled. "That," his lieutenant pointed. A still growing mob of Poet fans was approaching, with torches and pitchforks ready to annihilate the Commandant's last remaining forces.

babylonfreek

The wooden staff of the pitchfork was slick with sweat. I had no idea what I was doing here. Blood thumped at my temples. It makes no sense to me. Why am I here? I see guns. A puff of smoke. Something hot slams into my chest. Stars. Pretty stars...

cytorak

Frank had saved the girl’s life. Maybe now the visions would stop. The news wouldn’t report her disappearance, and his shows wouldn’t have been preempted. He settled down in his chair to watch the tape. It was blank. He had forgotten to program the damn machine before he left town.

blast

I'm not a writer but I read through this thread and loved it. #3 is shamelessly "influenced" by one of my favorite video game lines of all time so it seems appropriate for pa.

1.
She thought of the first time she had seen one. Nine years ago. She was nine. Wrestling with her brother, An accidental tug pulled down his pants. He had made her touch it.

A car pulled up. No one makes her now. Today, they start paying for the privilege.


2.
A book of facts, of sayings, of jokes. Had to read until it hurt. Reading was hard. The truth was harder.

Told the jokes to his wife. “So funny,” she said.

Told the facts to his friends. “So interesting,” they said.

Can’t let them know. Can’t let anyone say “retarded.”

3.
He said she’d never take the house. He was wrong. She lived there, with her parasite lawyer.

He’d get a house, he said. He’d build one himself if he had to. She laughed. He laughed back.

He sat inside his house now, in the backyard, built from their rotting skins.

Digg

Blast, I like your second one a lot. It's very good.

--

Untitled

The world is reeling today at the news that Professor Dunstable Huxtenbury, author of the critically-acclaimed and best-selling Amazing Wentworth Saga, has vanished. Sources close to the professor say that he seemed distracted since reading Baron Shutzenhousen’s scathing (though ill-founded) commentary on his last 50-word novel.

Untitled #2

Chased out of Islington’s least-exclusive opium den, Dunstable Huxtenbury Jr. fell in the street. Rain poured over him but couldn’t wash away his sins. He thought of the letter. The publisher’s offer, that he finish his father’s cycle of 50 word novels. He had sworn he wouldn’t. And yet...

Spoiler:

Maybe I should allow myself a few hundred words and get this stuff out of my system...

1ddqd

Bilgewater jumped to his feet as the cold water rushed around his ankles. "MOVE, YOU MAGGOTS!" The whip cracked, but Bilgewater knew it was an empty threat.
"Move, move, MOVE! Another whip crack. The ship rocked and his feet slipped out. Another whip crack, but the whip hadn’t moved...

shutz

The killer walked up to his victim from behind, and backstabbed him. The victim fell, face up, revealing to the killer that he'd actually killed himself. "Oh, shit!" he thought, looking upon his own, now inert features. "That's the last time I go back in time!" How right he was.

The_Scarab

=D

I love time travel fuck up stories.

Edcrab

He stared in abject disbelief at his bloodied fingertips. His Kryptonian physiology was supposed to render him impervious to harm.

“But,” he spluttered, already bleeding to death from the wound, “I’m Superman…”

“For the last time,” the Game’s Master bellowed, “no you’re not! Next time, roll yourself a proper character!”

The_Scarab

I half expected a 'You may be superman, but im the goddamn batman' to be the last line.

the games master dnd twist was nice.

shutz

Someone help me: I'm trying to find a way to write negative 950 words, so I can put up a picture.

oddment

I've smelt death. Not the rotting stench of a corpse. Not soil. Not ashes. No, the scent of death was unexpected. I could smell roses as she fell. All other senses fell away as others watched me try to revive her. Among the roses, mother passed away. Death smelled beautiful.

ruzkin

The street was a spatter of brake-lights, prostitutes squirming under flickering neons, the hard glow of cigarettes in the night. She indicated, changed lanes, accelerated. It was two k’s to the hospital, and he’d just stopped breathing, blood all over the back seat. Her knuckles were white against the wheel.

1ddqd

An apple soared acrosss the sky, red on a field of green, before splashing in the cold, icy water. The purplish water squirmed as the apple tried to force itself into the water's buoyant grip. However, this is Kalari 9, and apples have no business in the Great Purple Lakes.

shutz

When you get your dead whale, you'll find it hard to move around.

You can try getting help from friends, or you can hire.
You can get a crane.
You can manipulate gravity fields.
You can use magic.
You can pray.

There must be fifty ways to heave your blubber.

Spoiler:

If any of you don't get the pun/reference, you need to brush up on your Paul Simon lyrics...

SuperJaySS4

His throat felt dry, thus a drink was in order. He watched as the purple liquid filled the glass. Two gulps later, and he was parched no more.

ruzkin

Man, I don't get how that's 50 words.
SuperJay - challenge yourself. Within the 50 words, don't just give us a snippet of a scene. Try and create a character, a backstory, a crisis.

shutz

"When the aliens came--"
"You start all your stories with that."
He disregarded the rude interruption.
"When the alie--"
"Why won't you tell a different story?"
He sighed.
"Because it's a defining moment in our history. It changed things forever."
"History is no excuse for lack of imagination."

shutz

"The forecast figures need to be revised?"
Vague nods around the table. One dissenter:
"That will make us miss our bimonthly target!"
Groans all around.
"We already agreed that it would be an unfortunate but necessary consequence."
"Oh."
On went the longest board meeting in history, in its 136th week.

Edcrab

“I ATE HIS LIVER!”

“No,” I said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Not paranoia,” I told him. “It’s certainly a mental issue of some description, but that’s clearly not paranoia. I think you’ve come to the wrong audition.”

“Liar. I knew you were out to get me.”

“But- oh…” This guy was good.

shutz

"It's like everybody's out to get me."
"How does that make you feel?"
"Well, kinda helpless. And depressed. Even my best friends seem to be avoiding me. Heh, I must be imagining things."
"Even if you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
Psychoanalyst: Satan's new hobby.

1ddqd

Just a little taste of what happens 400 times a day with me:

*BEEP*
“Hello?”
The phone started ringing, then prompted him for a voice message.
“Hi, this is Bob with Nationstar. Please give us a call back at 888 555 1234 between the hours of 8am and 8pm, central standard time. Thanks.”
Bob died a little more inside as he pressed ‘Next.’

cytorak

This may be too graphic for this forum so I shall spoiler it:

Spoiler:

She cowered in the closet. The creature had killed her friends. She was the only one left. She tried to muffle her sobs as she heard it drag something behind it. She sighed quietly as it moved past her.

Too loud. The door burst open, followed quickly by her abdomen.

1ddqd

I lol'd

shutz

After going moving around all her life, never staying in one spot more than a few minutes, flying everywhere, she saw the light. She longed to know more about the light, join with it. She approached it, eager for the illumination.
ZAP!
"Goldurnit', ah hates' fly seasin," said the man.