Showing posts with label 55 word challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 55 word challenge. Show all posts

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

55 Word Challenge - Elephants

Couldn't resist this picture Lisa posted for her 55 Word Challenge.


I wondered what the elephants might be saying and I came up with this...


Betsy will you get a move on, I’m sick pushing your behind with my trunk. 

Yes I know the humans are throwing peanuts but honestly you can’t pick every single one up we’ll be here all day. 

I was really hoping to get back to the tent in time for a pedicure before tonight’s performance.


Thursday, 7 March 2013

55 word challenge - Dream Home

I'm really tired of late and keep waking up early for some unknown reason but I'm aware I've not written much fiction lately so last night I decided to have a go at Lisa McCourt Hollar's latest 55 word challenge.

It's only 55 little words I reasoned with myself but I could have written so much more to this story...


Dream Home


“We’re not spending my inheritance on this wreck.”

“Too late,” he thought surveying his land. 

Admittedly it would take maximum effort to create a dream home but as the saying goes “hard work never killed anyone”.

He didn’t expect her to lift a finger in the process.

Her death would be both tragic and accidental.


...sorry for the twisted ending but in the original "she" was whinging for the first 55 words, I had to shut her up and plot a sticky demise!

Writing fiction - the only place you can truly get away with murder and go to bed with a clear conscience. Last night I slept wonderfully and didn't wake until the alarm went off - maybe I should write more often!



Thursday, 24 January 2013

55 word challenge - Click Clack




“Click clack goes the train on the track”

She laughed hysterically.
He wondered if he had added too much vodka to the bottle.
She balanced barefoot on the rail with ballerina poise.
He marvelled at her lilac nail polish.
She slipped on a wet leaf.
He caught her shivering frame.
She crumpled, sobbing.

Click. Clack.


Wednesday, 12 December 2012

55 Word Challenge - Bright

It's a double blog day, a five sentence fiction earlier today and now a 55 Word Challenge...

Well I did get and honourable mention last week so it would be rude not to participate again!



"Bright"

“Bright” he used to call her, as if Bright were some derogatory name.

She always wished it was because she was colourful not just clever; she yearned for him to notice her.

Years later she still watched him on the daily commute but despite her bright orange hair, he always walked straight past, still oblivious.


Thursday, 6 December 2012

It's a short story from me and some homework from him

Never mind the coughs and colds that are spreading in this wintery weather there is another bug catching here - a writing bug!

Last night I was faffing on facebook and twiddling on twitter and finally decided to take the plunge and enter Lisa's McCourt Hollar's blog Jezri's Nightmares.

Now I am not a horror fan but Lisa does host a flash fiction competition on a Wednesday called the 55 word challenge and once I'd scrolled past the dark images with my eyes squinted and not quite looking I was quite taken by the picture prompts.



This was the one I chose and I must admit I did wonder if the picture had been posted sideways but I went with the image as it was and here is my story in 55 words

    Her upended cello reminded him of a ship’s bow setting sail for a foreign shore.
    In disconsolate rage he had also tipped over the music stand, notes cascaded down the page in a way the composer had never intended.  
    Robert sat sobbing for the music he would never hear again, her sweet melodies lost forever.

Now I wassn't the only one writing last night, Youngest son had his own story to write for history homework.

He had been complaining all evening because the story had to be written in neat! In the end he decided to type it, at 270 words his fingers ached and he couldn't go on...

...then the writing bug zapped him...

His finished story was 749 words long, he kept shouting a running word count total at me from one room to another.

How long is it going to be before he writes his own NaNoWriMo story? His head is always buzzing with creative ideas...

And proud mother that I am I have said I will post his story here.

Every story he writes has a Bob and a Fred in it, I'm sure there's some mileage in a collection of Bob and Fred stories, turning up in different time periods... I may just need to set him up his own blog!
 

Hunted Priest

Father Bob was a fat catholic priest he was waiting for the right conditions to sail his boat to Britain. As soon as the wind died down and the sea was calm he could sail to England to begin God’s work. As he waited, he grew quite impatient finally after 5 wind swept days of waiting his ship was ready to sail.

It took 3 days of sailing in changing weather until he arrived in Britain. As a squadron of soldiers dismounted their horses to search the ship, Bob leaped off the back of the ship in to the water. He swam to shore. As he clambered on to land, he spotted that one of the soldiers had left a black stallion unguarded. Without thinking, Bob threw himself on to the beast and galloped off. The soldiers charged after him but couldn’t keep up. Eventually Bob had put many miles between him and the squad.

When Bob arrived at his destination he dismounted the stallion and slapped it. Startled, the beast galloped away as fast as its little hoofs could carry it. As Bob entered the mansion of Lord Fred, he failed to see hoof prints left in the soft mud.

Straight after he entered one servant took his coat as another took him around the house. It was a large place with many rooms. When they arrived in the attic the servant spoke “if an emergency arises this floor board is loose also there is a rope under that unlocked window also there is a cart of hay in the yard and the masters best horse Snowfire will be nearby you know what to do”.

Bob spent 4 days at Lord Fred’s preaching and doing other catholic things. On the 5th day at morning prayers a group of 12 soldier’s where spotted approaching from the east. Bob legged it up the stairs so fast he would have beaten the 100m world record (the record wasn’t very fast as Usain Bolt wasn’t around at that time in history) he pulled up the floorboard and clambered underneath. 

In his hiding place, Bob could hear muffled voices a solider was speaking “me and my men tracked a stolen horse and the road leads here, we believe the horse to be stolen by a catholic priest therefore we are arresting you on suspicion of treason you have betrayed the king and now you will pay for your crime, men! Take this slime away and ransack the house, report to me when you find the priest” “yes sir” replied many voices of other soldiers. This scared Bob he decided to wait until night fall and if nothing happened he would leave on Snowfire. 

Before nightfall a solider came into the attic and walked over Bobs hiding place turned saw the unlocked window walked over to it and locked it. The solider then stood guard at the attic door thankfully for Bob, he was facing away. Quietly, bob lifted up the floorboard creped over to the man and tapped him on the shoulder “what the…” the solider exclaimed but he was cut off as a plank of wood smashed in his face. The man crumpled on to the floor with a broken nose. Bob knew he now didn’t have much time before more soldiers arrived he tied the rope to his waist and the window. Another solider arrived “I have found the priest” he shouted “bye” bob explained and he dived out the window, “I have lost the priest” the solider corrected.

As Bob fell shards of glass cut at his face, finally Bob landed in the hay and jumped on Snowfire, Snowfire was a pure white pony, and he galloped off faster than any pony had gone before 10 of the soldiers set off in pursuit. As Bob exited the gate 10 more soldiers had set a trap but Snowfire was too fast for them so they set off in chase of him on their black stallions. Further up the road 10 more soldiers had aligned themselves in a wall; there was a musket shot, Bob slipped off Snowfire. Snowfire hurtled off in to the darkness. As Bob landed he had broken his leg and arm he lay helpless as 30 solders looked over him “men” the sergeant cried “make sure his helpers are sentenced to death, I’ll take care of this one” he aligned his musket at Bob’s forehead and shot him straight through the brain.