A taste of what i stole....

Here's a couple of stories I got from fifty word fiction. Basically, you're supposed to write a shrt story in fifty words or less.

WHAT ABOUT HYPHENS?

“What about hyphens?”
“Uh?”
“Does a hyphenated word count as one or two?”
“One. Two.” She sighed. “Whatever.”
“It really matters,” he said, agitated. “If it’s one, I’ve got forty-nine words. If it’s two, I’ve got fifty-one.” “What about numbers?” she asked, mischievously. 49? 51? Now he was really worried.



INTERVIEW

We got into groups of five or six; spent twenty minutes building bridges out of Lego. I could smell Carol from across the room, and wondered if Bill really like Tai food, or whether that was some kind of half-arsed pose. For a second our chumminess felt almost real.



DISFIGURED

I walked to town and saw the sky on fire. The clouds were mauve and the buildings were salmon pink. A crowd gathered at Mothercare, waiting for buses home or anywhere. Now there are red welts on my face, burning me up. Nothing can soothe the pain. We all die.



DAD

I thought my father looked like Captain Kirk. There was the blond quiff and the proprietary way he marched around his supermarket, surveying the chiller cabinets.
When he left early in the mornings, I'd wave goodbye through the bug screen. He'd be multiplied in the raindrops hanging in its squares.



BREATH

His breath came up short despite the deeper, longer he inhaled. An enormous effort for each pull of oxygen through his mouth gulp to fill his lungs. Throat sore with cold air-inhaled pollen, dust and all. That stomach punch like the doctor's first slap forced something previously so simple.

try to write one yourself...