My Weekly Writing Challenge

Thank you to everyone who showed me their limericks from yesterday’s ‘market of the week’. I really enjoyed them and wish you all good luck in the contest. If you’re not amongst the winners, try another one for them. After all, it’s free to enter so you have nothing to lose.

Anyway, onto this week’s challenge: 60-word stories please. I loved your 50-word stories from last week. Can you top it next week? Here are last week’s stories for you to enjoy:

Keith Channing is immersed in NaNoWriMo at the moment as his 50-word story featuring one of his main characters shows!:

Hannice didn’t know, when he inherited his father’s fortune, that he had a half-brother, the product of a liaison his father had enjoyed while at university.

Stephen had no legal grounds to contest the old man’s will, but Hannice gave him half a million anyway.

Good egg, that Hannice!

Lyn Bishop‘s character isn’t anywhere near as nice as Hannice!:

“It’s at times like this that sudden death is the only option,” she thought, “but not my own obviously.” She sighed, so much work to be done in such a short space of time, but plans needed to be made to bring Terence into line, and sooner rather than later.

Geoff Le Pard sent in a trio of animal delights:

Pet Logic
1) Buster ran after the ball, stopped and headed for the woman by the gate. Paul called but Buster kept going.

‘Hello Moo.’

Moo? He’s not Moo he’s… Paul remembered. The rehoming lady said his old owners called him that. The woman rubbed Buster’s head, turned and walked off. Buster followed.

2) Johnson the cat slunk through the flap and surveyed his territory. Henry the sparrow stopped feeding and waited. Johnson thought about attacking but turned away. ‘Another time, bird,’ he purred. Henry waited until Johnson was relieving himself and swooped over Johnson’s favourite spot, relieving himself. A small, if pyrrhic victory.

3) Blackie the hamster was dead. Marjorie could imagine what Mrs Broom, 2C’s teacher would say when the form pet returned a stiff.

The pet shop had every colour except black; the art shop said the dye well worked on fur, if soaked for an hour. Marjorie hoped hamsters could swim.

Wendy Pope sent in a story to lift the spirits:

He sits in his summerhouse, notebook and pens to hand. He likes it here; it’s quiet, it inspires him. With the window open slightly he can hear Nature, as well as see Her. For him, a peaceful heart and a clear mind are all he needs to create meaningful prose.

Sacha Black always produces a gripping one:

For a long time conspiracies were territory for the crazies, saved for life’s eccentrics. Until one day, they weren’t. In one instant, one worldwide news broadcast everything we thought we knew about life and society became a lie. The long heads had landed and our freedom was going to be taken.

Charles Norman has written a great twist-in-the-tale:

Rita’s daughter screams from her bedroom, “Try that again and I’ll kill you… keep away from me!”

Running towards the bedroom, she shouts, “June, what’s the matter?”

“Stay out Mum!”

Rita throws open the door and sees June holding a fly-swot which has just killed the wasp that nearly stung her.

Jasdeep Kaur‘s story will paint a vivid picture in your mind:

Ray Of Hope

Fluttering butterflies, blossoming flowers, chirping birds, bounteous water; no, it was not a dream. In the Earth that had become a desert, there was still a green belt.

A grain of sand will fall when you commit a sin, was the command.

I sighed in relief: all was not over.

Jason Moody‘s story will tug at the heart strings:

Her wrinkled hand barely registered upon mine. My heart was pumping, my jaw clenched shut. This was it. I couldn’t face this.

“I love you, Beth,” she whispered.

My eyes stung. Her eyes twinkled for the last time, as she gave me a weathered brown envelope.

Then she was gone.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. Andrew says:

    We didn’t ask for names or clear faces as we held hands, and walked across the water as the cars rushed passed us; we sat down at our table and as the waiter walked past with a dirty plate of brown rice I asked to have it. My dream-lover smiled and joined me in appetite. Batman’s butler watched in disgust.

  2. TanGental says:

    ‘One hour, one million or one body part.’
    ‘I can’t raise it that quickly.’
    ‘Yes you can. Don’t you want your husband back whole?’
    ‘When you say a ‘body part’ what do you mean? A limb?’
    ‘Geez. Look put it this way: get me the money or there’ll be no romantic nights for you two.’
    ‘It’ll take me two hours.’

  3. JasonMoody77 says:

    I’ve posted this elsewhere…sorry!

    “I said no,” yelled Michelle.
    “But why not Mum?” said Max.
    Michelle slammed the Cereal box on the counter. “I’ve had about enough of your whining.”
    Max muttered under his breath. With that, Michelle turned, her face reddening.
    “Will you just drop it Max, please.”
    Max huffed. Loud enough that his Mum would hear.
    “Why can’t you forgive dad?”

  4. JasonMoody77 says:

    One more…

    The two of them sat opposite each other. Neither looked like they would move.
    Henry wasn’t one for backing down, and Madeline was no shrinking violet.

    It seemed like forever as the two of them simply stared straight at each other. Something had to give. This couldn’t go on forever.

    Madeline shuffled, then licked her paw. She meowed.

    Cats.

  5. She spent every day quite alone.

    “She will be happier with company,” they said.

    She had always been good, never destructive, always clean.

    Her campaign had started with a little bit of damage here and there. When that didn’t work, she pulled her ace card, she messed on their best carpet.

    That did the trick; she’s on her own again.

  6. Jasdeep Kaur says:

    Concocted

    Thunderstruck, I looked at her horrendous face as she made her way through the dimly lit passage. It was not merely the lour blazing her blued lips, the reddened eye lids, or the blackened teeth, but the mess that had actually unmanned me.

    “Gosh,” I screamed at my daughter, “what on the earth made you paint yourself like this Isla?”

  7. JasonMoody77 says:

    Time for another go…

    “When you agreed to my terms, you knew it would come at a price Justin. Don’t forget that,” said Balthazar.

    He enjoyed repeating this. He would do it often. To keep me in line. As much as I hated to admit it, he owned me. I hated that. I hated him.

    “No Sir.” I said. My tone resigned.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s