An unexpected bonus
I started the Challenge in January because I thought it would be fun. And it was. A creative exercise to get the brain going.
Applying for the Kresge Arts in Detroit Fellowship in January, I found myself writing additional synopsis of my work at the last minute because I mis-read a section of the application. Normally, this takes me a long time and input from several friends. It was easy this time and it is a direct result of writing the 50-word stories. It is now a monthly Blog Event. It reinforces my belief:
Write ten 50-word stories based on these words and phrases. Try to do them all, but if you can only do one or two that is fantastic!
Going to the dogs
Getting up early
January 2015 50-word Stories
By Fred Green
A Typical Winter
Its 120 degrees below zero. Jerry went out to do some last minute recon, he hasn’t reported in yet. He is two hours past due. We have to close the outside blast doors. It is a shame there are no Tauntaun’s.
Today, we found Jerry 30 meters from the doorway.
Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty…
I am a genetic engineer on Kepler 186f, and I miss my cat, Tom. He passed away a month ago; I kept his DNA, though. I’ve experimented with the indigenous animals here, a cross between a Tribble and a cat.
Tom is back, but there so many of him, now!
By Cynthia Franks
“If I’m late again–” she blasted the horn for the car in front of her to make the left-hand turn on the increasingly icy morning. She went around it.
Suddenly the Toasted Coconuts sign stared her in the face from the other side of a spiderwebbed windshield.
The Cat languishes on the recliner cleaning her paws. Abruptly she perks her ears; her eyes fix on something unobserved by the humans. She springs to the floor, dashes across the room and battles another ghost. If she looses, her humans will die.
That is what he said. To live another life it takes the “zest” of one relative. To live it from youth, it takes two.
“I had no choice,” thought Tiberius Lime as he stapled the missing poster for his twin nephews to the telephone pole.
…you parked beautifully. I know this note is weird, but today’s my Mom’s funeral and the caterer didn’t show and I hit a dog. I had to say something nice to someone or I would shrivel into a ball of sorrow and disappear. Bri.
From behind the DJ stand he watched her; perfection in motion. He had a marshmallow soul in a world of gnashing teeth and somewhere he got the idea women like Jersey Shore men. After practicing all night he walked up to her and said, “How’s about a date?”
…best describes him, she thinks as she watches him dice tomatoes for his signature dish featured in the dinner service tonight. The bits of tomato are perfect cubes; never a cut finger. Her chef husband.
“Honey,” she smiles, “I have a bun in the oven.”
Chop, chop, chop.