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can you write a 50 word story? try it! (2 Viewers)

Amnesiac

Senior Member
It was a blind moisturizer test. My left hand was placed in glass dish that felt like lotion. My right was placed in another that felt soft, cool, and textured, somehow. When the blindfold was removed, I was shocked to see that the right-hand dish was full of human eyeballs.
 

Mish

Senior Member
At the console Alex could observe the multiverse, billions of years unfolding in front of his eyes within seconds. Big bang, big crunch, big bang, big crunch. Whole universes built, flourished and ended all in time it took Alex to sip his coffee.

(43 words)
 

Bard_Daniel

Senior Member
viking_funeral-450x299.jpg

The crooning of the night birds set the procession of his funeral with a solemn night-song that was befitting to Argnor. We placed his body upon his galleon and watched as it burned, his soul melding with the smoke. In time, the remnants of the ship sunk into the water.
 

Omnitech

Senior Member
This was a fun! More difficult than I was expecting to keep below 50 words.


His arms and back burned furiously. 15 minutes, an eternity, had passed since a bystander ran to find help. He was staring into the face of death praying for the stamina to continue. As he collapsed in agony, he closed his eyes and reached for her neck. Finally… A pulse.
 
Eep-eeep-eeep[/FONT][FONT=&quot] … I slam the snooze button, then remember. 2:00 A. M., we said.

Cardboard box under the bed, right. I yank it out and stare at the spraypaint cans, their black nozzles like black seeds, ready for planting in the streets, in the concrete and brick.

It’s time.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
 
“I’m Shania D. Bennet. I’m from the moon.” That’s how she introduces herself.

She has a reputation for loopy behaviour—sprinkling Lucky Charms in the woods, drinking heavy cream from the carton, pouring honey on her steps “for the flies.” [/FONT][FONT=&quot]I say, she’s an honest-to-goodness space alien. Also, my second-to-best friend.
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
 

seigfried007

Senior Member
Bubbles
(49 words)

Looking up.
In tub.
Underwater.

Weight on chest.
Mommy's hand.
Call for Mommy.
Bubbles out.
Water in.

Can't breathe.
Mommy, Daddy yelling.
ALL LOUD. TOO LOUD.
Call for Daddy.
No bubbles.
Water in.

Can't breathe.
Weight on chest.
Mommy's hand.
CAN'T BREATHE
WEIGHT ON CHEST
MOMMY'S HAND
CAN'T BREATHE
 
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Tim

Friends of WF
Blank page.
Fingers drumming next to mouse.
A sip of black coffee.
Clean glasses with T-shirt.
Reach for cigarettes that aren't there anymore.
Why do I do this to myself?
Deadline.
Sip of coffee.
Typing now.
The basketball rolled slowly past the overflowing rubbish bin...
All is well again.
 

SilentCypher

Senior Member
“It’s always that way with missing persons,” I replied, sipping the coffee.
“Do you think she’s alive?” Carl asked, somewhat cautiously.
I looked up at him from my newspaper for a moment.
“I can’t say. Not officially, at least. But…”
I leaned forward more closely.
“This late in the game...”
 

NajaNoir

Senior Member
Twelve romantic days in simulation. Mere minutes for her. An easy affair. Beach, sunsets, margaritas, and all the passion she had needed. Her simulator broke, his didn't. A wife to get back to. Days turned to weeks, months. Sunsets and margaritas, on the beach, she sat alone.
 

KatPC

Senior Member
Twelve romantic days in simulation. Mere minutes for her. An easy affair. Beach, sunsets, margaritas, and all the passion she had needed. Her simulator broke, his didn't. A wife to get back to. Days turned to weeks, months. Sunsets and margaritas, on the beach, she sat alone.
Nice!
 

KatPC

Senior Member
Time lapsed and we still could not see. We entered into the dark, along the tunnel, next to each other, holding hands, hoping to find the way out. She was scared, trembling, worried, thinking we could never get out, but at least, the very least, we were not alone.
 

iamhuman

Senior Member
Cliffs of Ibiza

“Shhhh.”, he says. He grabs my shoulders tightly. The pain isn’t enough to distract from the luster of tumultuous water below. He points to the edge. Don’t worry, I’ve got you, his grip reassures me, as he guides me to safety; a warm basket of feathered pillows and broken shells.
 
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