My Weekly Writing Challenge

I had some very interesting, intriguing and exciting interpretations of my opening line challenge: ‘She wished she hadn’t opened the letter’. Read them below and enjoy.

Yesterday my market of the week was for a daily flash fiction competition, which invites stories of between 20-100 words. So to get you in the mood to enter, my new weekly writing challenge is for a flash fiction story. No entry is to be below 20 words and no entry higher than 100 words. I look forward to reading them.

Here are last week’s entries:

Keith Channing sent in this story, which sadly could be true:

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter.

It wasn’t addressed to her and she should simply have marked it “not known at this address” and popped it back into the post. But she didn’t. She opened it.

If you asked her why, she would have said something about wanting to be helpful. She was like that. Inquisitive? No. Nosey? Never. Helpful, was our Rosie.

She had never heard of a Mr A Nchimbi. Sounds African. The people she and her husband had bought the house from, six years ago, were from Wolverhampton; name of Hammond; lovely couple, West Indian as she recalled.

The letter was from a bank in Nigeria. It said that it was imperative that Mr Nchimbi contact them urgently, as they had a business proposition for him that would earn him a lot of money very quickly, with no risk at all. Rosie decided that she should call them to let them know that they had the wrong address. No doubt they have his correct one on file somewhere.

She called the bank. She wasn’t worried about the cost, because it was a Sheffield telephone number, and her plan includes UK calls. Didn’t she think it strange, that a bank in Nigeria should have a Sheffield phone number? Not at all; they probably have a branch in Sheffield.

The man she spoke to at the bank was very grateful for her call, and such a nice young man. He asked her some questions, and suggested that she might like to take advantage of this offer, too. Rosie told him that, following her husband’s death, she had about eighty thousand pounds sat in her account doing nothing, and was delighted when he told her that he could turn that into more than a quarter of a million in less than six months. At his request, she gave him details of the account, so he could manage the investments for her. Such a nice young man; so polite, so helpful, so attentive.

She never heard any more from him, of course. Eighty thousand pounds was transferred from her account the very same day, it turns out to a bank in the Cayman Islands, but in the six months that followed, nothing came back. She tried calling the Sheffield number, but that was unobtainable. She asked about the bank at the library, where one of the staff very kindly looked them up on her internet, but couldn’t find any trace of them. She went to the police with it all, but they couldn’t help either.

If only she hadn’t opened that letter!

Eddy sent in lots of different takes on that opening:

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. But how could she have known that it was a bomb. It was the last thought she ever had.

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. She cursed the growing ebook market as she read the headline in the local newspaper, “Charming Indie Bookstore, The Letter, Foreclosed”.

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. Immediately the letter was closed and the genie said, “you have two more wishes remaining.”

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. But now that she had, she was forced to read it even though half her brain was hungover and the other half was still drunk. After all, her success as an author wouldn’t have been possible without her fans.

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. The handwriting was that bad.

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. There was a grammatical mistake in the very first line.

New entrant Booghostiegirl sent the following entertaining story:

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter.

It was bad enough that this now-deceased great aunt she hadn’t known about had left her a creepy-looking mansion in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania. She had also left her a legacy she was certain she wanted no part of.

At least that’s what the letter said. The letter that had been hidden in a secret drawer in the basement stairs. Who hid letters in staircases anyway?

Oh, that’s right. Great-Aunt Celeste, or Catherine, or whatever her real name was. No wonder Kyrie’s father kept her away from this eccentric old woman. Apparently, she was far more than eccentric; she was involved in something no good Christian girl would ever even consider.

Great-Aunt Celeste was a witch.

And the letter, addressed to her, said that she, Kyrie Carter, was also a witch.

Oh, how she wished she hadn’t opened the letter….

Jasdeep kaur is last but by no means least, with her emotional story:

She wished she hadn’t opened the letter. Rebecca was no more, but she had left a scar that could never heel. She looked at the age of Rebecca’s son again and again. He was four years old.

“Why?” she cried.

The fact that all this happened after her marriage was killing her. Her trust was shattered. George had never changed, nor his love. Then how could he be involved with another woman. How could she trust George again?

Her mobile rang. It was George’s call. She cancelled it.

She didn’t conceive even after 10 years of their marriage, but could it be an excuse for such an act? It would have been better if she hadn’t opened the letter. All would have ended with Rebecca’s death. But now she’d have to live with this wound for the rest of her life.

She received a message. It was from George again. She thought that it must be an excuse for coming late. But Rebecca was no more. Then?

She picked her mobile and read. It said, “Tony’s ex-girlfriend Rebecca has expired. She wanted us to take the custody of their son. You know Tony; he won’t.”

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20 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. acuriousgal says:

    Great responses, Esther. That first one broke my heart. I despise when people take advantage of others, especially the elderly.

  2. I feel a true story coming on…

    When we met up, George asked us what we did after Niagara.
    “We picked up the Garden State Parkway and went to Cape May,” I replied
    “Do you mean the GSP? Surely it was the I95.”
    “No, definitely the GSP.”
    “What state were you in?”
    “We had driven non-stop from Niagara. It had been a long day and was Friday evening rush hour. We were in a hell of a state!”
    “Why didn’t you call in?”
    “You were both out.”
    I didn’t have the nerve to tell him we tried, but his dog wouldn’t let us in the house!

    99 words.

  3. JasonMoody77 says:

    I’ve just found this blog Esther. Do I post my attempts at the weekly writing challenge here? I’m such a dunce.

  4. Hi Esther! I’m a newbie here, but I will give it a try, since I find it quite interesting and amazing post topic. 🙂 So, here it is:

    “The Solitude, the Loneliness, and the Aloneness.
    These are my three monsters.

    Yesterday I was preparing your travel bags, as I did numberless times before.
    The Solitude, when you are missing someone who is right next to you.

    At the airport, we kissed goodbye.
    The Loneliness came when I found a pair of forgotten socks.

    The days passing by, Loneliness turned into Aloneness.

    I want you in my life and not the forgotten pair of socks.

    If you will ever be able to understand these three monsters, then you will make a plural out of our singular lives.”

    • Hi and welcome! I’m so pleased you have had a go and please try the challenges. You have a talent for strong, emotive writing. I like this very much – it says so much in very few words. The ending is very clever and highly apt. Great stuff 🙂

  5. Jasdeep Kaur says:

    Misapprehension

    Kate: An intimate relationship will come to an end again.

    Anna: What happened? I thought everything was going fine.

    Kate: It has been long time, definitely beyond my expectations.

    Anna: You expected this to happen? You never told you were having problems with him!

    Kate: Him? Shouldn’t you use ‘it’ instead? It’s a silly grammatical mistake.

    Anna: Should I use “it” for Edward?

    Kate: Edward…I am talking about my laptop sweetie!

  6. Jasdeep Kaur says:

    Thanks a lot! I am obliged.

  7. JasonMoody77 says:

    Graham was alone in the house. He had no idea where everyone had gone, and he hadn’t thought to ask.
    He made his way in to the lounge and felt the soft carpet underfoot as he walked to the back door.
    He pulled the curtain back. It was sunny, and the garden looked nice. He made a note to investigate later.
    He stood in front of the sofa, and looked about it. Decision time. He stretched and jumped onto the soft, beige sofa. It almost swallowed him.

    He stifled a yawn.

    He loved being a cat.

    • Hi Jason, thanks so much for your story. Really enjoyed it, especially as I’m a cat lover 🙂 Hope to see you as a regular entrant of my weekly writing challenges :-)) I’ll publish this on my blog Thursday 🙂

      • JasonMoody77 says:

        Hi Esther,
        Here’s my attempt at your latest writing challenge.

        Marcus wrestled once again with the front door to his apartment. His body barely carrying him over the fresh hold.
        He threw his case to one side and staggered into his bedroom.
        It had been a hard day if non-stop meeting all day. Some if the most important figures in the company had been there. He felt he had held himself well.

        With eyes closing every second, he removed his clothes. Now stood in only his trousers, he swayed, like a drunked over to the mirror. He looked up, then he looked down.
        He felt heart freeze as if cased in ice. He shook his head and peered down at his groin, then at the mirror.
        He groped near his groin to discover that there was no zip attached to his trousers. He looked himself straight in the eye, as if his reflection would offer done explanation.

        He slumped on his bed. He thought if all the people he had spoken to today. All the one to one conversations he had had. He sighed. Only one thought had occurred to him.
        ‘Had anyone seen my bits?’
        As it was Friday, he would have to sweat it out until Monday. Great.
        He tore off his trousers and cursed while he bit his fist.
        He climbed into bed, pulled the duvet over his head and closed his eyes. What a nightmare.
        Perhaps tomorrow he would look at things a little differently and realise what a lucky escape he’d had.

      • Oh no! Every bloke’s worst nightmare! Poor Marcus. I’m so please you’re having a go at these, Jason. They’re great 🙂

  8. Sandra says:

    Just on time I hope! I tried out fantasy today…

    Title: Salvation in Silver

    After days of ceaseless chanting, all the magi have accomplished is this oppressive canopy of rumbling clouds.

    Below us, dark legions spread across the valley.

    On our side, one hundred remain of the thousand that saw the first dawn of battle.

    The chanting paused.

    A child now stands among the quarreling magi. Unbidden, he steps forward and lifts a hand over the abyss.

    Then, through the clouds, a shimmer.

    A silver dragon swoops low among black flags and the spreading tidal roar of terror.

    They flee; disperse like an ant colony disturbed.

    The dragon soars and disappears and, with it, the child.

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