Micro Fiction- a short story in 50 words or less

navin.r.johnson

Recently came across micro fiction and found some of it to be rather good. Has to be less than 50 words. Give it a go!

dead-bob

He watched it tear its wings off. Silver dripped down from the holes in its back. Its feet scorched the grass in his garden. It was tall, quivering and Neanderthalish .Tomorrow was his 18th, “just money” he had told his Mother. Then it turned and smiled. “Hello son” it said.

Antilles

Don't usually go about vamping threads, but this one was linked to a post I made under "Similar Threads", and I had something relevant so I thought I'd give it a go. This is a couple of weeks old but what the hell.

Two by two, the animals walked onto the boat. The old man smiled, his work almost done. He followed the creatures onboard, hoisted the ramp, and waited. Outside, rain fell and waters rose. The ship rocked and began to float. "Where are the unicorns?", his wife asked. "F**k!", he replied.

Matt Holck

He chewed the leather away
and bound before the crowd
spit out the gag and spoke aloud.

"Our lord exiled the wizard's bard
because the scribe revealed how we hide.
The wizards murdered the fairy baron
because the scribe spied for them."

For a moment, no one said another word.

Fysh

Surely there comes a point where the requirement of telling a full story conflicts with the requirement of having any development whatsoever and you just get crap? I remember seeing something along similar lines (initially suggested by Wired magazine) where several people on some writing community were asked to tell stories with 6 words or less and, well, the only worthwhile one that was posted was "Suddenly, COCKS! And lots of them".

pickarooney

Write it in Western Inuit and you can fit a whole novel into 25 words. Mind you, the subject matter is fairly limited.

Agglutinfree heartymeatbreakfast, snowcoldsunshinemorning, mydogbark alerts familyfriends. Oldgreyunclejuuq spearmurdered. GovernmentagentperformedDNAtest inconclusive. Circumstantialevidence implicates cousinbymarriagewithblackeyesworksinprocessingplantmerqiq.
Policecoercionbyphsicalassaultproducedconfession upheld despite fromfamilyfriendslawyerprotest. Eighteen longlonelydarksoulcrushingwithoubailyears in Bigprisoninnuukwithredwallsopenedinnineteenseventyfourbygovernerpedersenhousestwohundred. Committed suicide after four.

Antilles

Fysh wrote: »

Surely there comes a point where the requirement of telling a full story conflicts with the requirement of having any development whatsoever and you just get crap?

Ernest Hemingway considered his shortest ever story to also be his best:

For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

Six words. Not a syllable of crap.

Wantobe

I thought it was the medication. Sedatives slowly allowing the gnawing edge of despair to creep up through the long sleepless nights. So I stopped taking them but the darkness found me anyway. Bye bye baby.

Fysh

Antilles wrote: »

Ernest Hemingway considered his shortest ever story to also be his best:

For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.

Six words. Not a syllable of crap.

Well, alright then, but the fact that he thought it was the best story doesn't actually make it the best now, does it? Sure, that particular combination is more evocative than, say, "one two three four five seven", but it's still just a single sentence. There's a line between "letting the reader fill in the gaps" and "getting the reader to tell the story themselves"...heck, the above isn't so much a story as a writing prompt.

Phototoxin

scrotum. pliers. yeah you winced

Blisterman

Fysh wrote: »

Well, alright then, but the fact that he thought it was the best story doesn't actually make it the best now, does it? Sure, that particular combination is more evocative than, say, "one two three four five seven", but it's still just a single sentence. There's a line between "letting the reader fill in the gaps" and "getting the reader to tell the story themselves"...heck, the above isn't so much a story as a writing prompt.

I disagree. He manages in six words, to say something, which is both poignant and tragic, without actually stating a single fact.

As the old saying goes. Less is more.

shiv

great hemmingway example. we could all take a page out of his book.

pickarooney

shiv wrote: »

great hemmingway example. we could all take a page out of his book.

There'd only be about three pages left then

Phototoxin

I disagree. He manages in six words, to say something, which is both poignant and tragic, without actually stating a single fact.

As the old saying goes. Less is more.

I disagree you are assuming. The stupid thing I put down is exactly the same. 'Pliers. Scrotum' One assumes thing without facts which when you're a skeptical hoor you don't do.

brianthebard

He couldn't remember when or where they met. He could only remember when they parted. Tragedy does not start a story well.

Matt Holck

There are other goblins in the City

So they know how we hide.
Doesn't mean they found all our holes
At night, we stealth about the town
and at day beneath the crown.

The rope fell stack when the trap to gaped.
They helped soldierless captain escape.

~Rebel~

Just tapped this one out during the add break of Bill Bailey's 'Part Troll'. It's put me in an odd mood!

Little men, angered by fate and form, hunting out those of regular proportion, visiting their wrath upon them with cruel tricks and cruel smiles. One tall man they fooled to believe his wife had died, and while he cried, they laughed, and when he discovered the truth, they killed him.

Spyral

She shook it, long, round and hard it was. His white stuff splodged over her face. "You idiot - my tippex is ruined" said her classmate.

vincenzo1975

She paused at the door, resting her hand on the frozen jagged stone surface. It stood ancient and tomb-like on the skyline, this chalice of hope and death. A price had to be paid. She stepped wearily into the cold shadow silence and waited for a miracle to come.

vincenzo1975

Timmy clasped the borrowed crayons and coloured his paper with ferocious enthusiasm. Hypnotised by the scene he scrawled and scribbled, first blue, then green and red. The teacher smiled at the poor boys simple efforts. Timmy then paused, he was not quite sure how to draw his mummy crying.

vincenzo1975

The sun rose that terrible day, it rose on blood spilt like honour, on the cheeks and brows of the dead soldiers. The raven pecked at the eyes of the slain, the uniform of victory blind in its black eyes. Foolish Man had yieded to the beast again.

Odaise Gaelach

“Listen to my voice Sam,” the hypnotist said. “Do you remember what they said?”

“They told me to sit down. They were gonna kill me. But...”

“Relax. Breathe slowly.”

“There was shouting, noise... a light. The police. They saved me...”

Another voice behind him: “They didn’t save you.”

“Huh? No!”

plonk

She lay there dressed in white, ever so peacefully. He had loved her from the moment he saw her. From his eye came a single tear and he brushed it away gently. A soft thud and the coffin was closed.

reality

She stared down at her shaky, entwining hands as she gushed trembling words punctuated only by sobs.
She did not look up for fear his face would cause her frail determination to falter.

Ironically, when she finally dared a glance, it was his face that cemented her resolve.

Matt Holck

the goblin escaped death through the trap door
after accusing the wizards of murder
'til the king took the stage
and silenced the rage
to be sure that his words would be heard

davyjose

“Julia?”

“Shh, go back asleep.”

She opened the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?”

Silence filled the room. A car pulled up outside.

“Will you be back?”

“I don’t … No.”

The door clicked shut.

Voices spoke softly outside – Julia’s.

The car drove off.

Silence filled the room once more.

rockbeer

Shaking with fear she struggled with the key. Why wouldn't it go in the damn lock? At last it turned with a click and she was inside, slamming the door behind her. She sagged heavily against it, gasping with relief.

Ahead of her in the shadows a dark shape moved.

manfist

just a little more Ketamine he thought, consciousness is a virtue he didnt understand

Red Hand

Both sides stood across the close cropped field, each soldier still in the morning air.

Screaming, the cavalry of the left charged...

Afterwards, the dead remained still, still on the same field. Their blood nourished the earth and the worms were triumphant in a way the living never hope to be.

navin.r.johnson

"So," said father, "does anyone want to go to the pictures?"
Eliza scoffed and rolled her eyes. Raymond chewed on the cap of his Bic pen.
"C'mon kids, it's Christmas eve! We don't want to break a tradition do we?" he continued having received nothing but silence from the children. He was as excited as they had been last year, and the year before that.
"All right then," said Eliza before her father began begging, "so long as its something long,"
At that moment Raymonds pen crunched in his mouth and blue ink spattered on his cheek. Eliza shot him a glance.
"And holy."

sitout

"Please". "Dont". "For the love of God, its hardly worth this,please". "Dont".

smegmar

"I fought with this rifle in hand, for freedom justice and family. This day my only grandson told me he is gay. I'll eat the barrel and put the trigger for all the good it did me now."

this off the top of my head. 38 words, 39 if I'll is 2

smegmar

Oh, I am a battery hen
On my back there's not a germ,
I've never scratched a farmyard
And never pecked a worm,
I never had the sunshine
to warm my feathers through
Eggs I lay. Every day
For the likes of you

busted flush

smegmar wrote: »

Oh, I am a battery hen
On my back there's not a germ,
I've never scratched a farmyard
And never pecked a worm,
I never had the sunshine
to warm my feathers through
Eggs I lay. Every day
For the likes of you

quaint
I'm a free ranger though.

davyjose

smegmar wrote: »

" 38 words, 39 if I'll is 2

Nope, it's one.

stevejazzx

Looking back it was probably wasn't a good idea;
they came thick and fast, most of them, pointless utterences..attempting some kind of poignance or grandeur
but achieving only latent mediocrity.
"Why did I start this?" he asked while peering over them, not a Heminway in sight....
"Perhaps I'm alone?"

imasmeasmecanbe

She cried, he laughed, trying in vain to raise her spirits - the radish is a meat and Aristotle believed the buzzard had three testicles. Its well for some.

Pauric

Have a look at Fish publishing. They have a micro competion with a word count of 300-a page.
http://www.fishpublishing.com/index.php