2015 50 Word Story Contest

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Here we go again. To kick off 2015 we are looking for the best 50 word story we can find on any subject. The story cannot be a submission in any of our other story contests. It can be in any genre. Post the stories in the comments below. The deadline is midnight on April 6, 2015. Why this date? It just feels like the beginning of spring. I know spring starts in March, but it generally snows here in March.

Winner of the contest will win 3 months of ads on EWR. This is $1000 (approx) value. You can promote anything to do with writing, or other subjects, we reserve the right to deny ads on subjects we do not agree with. All books are ok. All publications are generally ok.

This is our first contest of the year, so please make it a good one. You can, of course, enter as many times as you like.

Quick rules:

1. Story must be 5o words or under

2. Cannot be used in any of OUR other contests

3. Most be posted in the comments below.

MAKE SURE YOU put in your real email address when you post the story. We need to contact you if you win.

We will announce the winner on  4/9/15. It will be done in one of our movie chats (details TBA).

If you have any questions, emails us.

Top 3 winners will be published on EWR: Short Stories.

GOOD LUCK!

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86 thoughts on “2015 50 Word Story Contest”

  1. We were discussing nursing homes for my father when he interrupted.
    “Why should I want to spend my last days with a bunch of rickety, decrepit beings like myself?”
    “Father, you have common interests.”
    “Rickety and decrepit.” He reiterated.
    So, with a hammock on the porch, my father is happy.

  2. She wished forever for the thaw.

    It had been an endless season of mismatched mittens, salt-streaked floors, and the frozen temperaments of her children.

    But in the end, the anticipated drops of unraveling icicles only made her cry.

    “Can we go outside?” begged the youngest.

    “Yes,” reluctantly letting them go.

  3. As he crossed the bridge, he felt the police batons striking his head, sending him into a brief delirium where he saw himself as an old man, beginning the walk again, holding the hand of a future black US President.

  4. His great leaps glide him across the flat green as if his blood his helium. The violent twisting cone swiftly closes in. His body is sucked up. Near the top, the funnel spews the flailing form. The involuntary contortionist screams, “Stop tearing trees down! Enough with the developing land already!”

  5. His hands tremble as they meet to brush her lips and stroke her smooth pale cheek, just before someone behind him pulls him away. He struggles against the burly arms and breaks free, reaching her side, just as the bullet rips through his flesh.

    Still he holds onto her, crying.

  6. He remembers nothing.

    They enter a bright room.

    He has a daughter.

    He hears voices, they are real. Unlike the ones in his head.

    Eyes are on him, whispers in the crowd.

    “Killed her,” he hears, “innocent girl”.

    Then, “guilty”, “hanged”.

    He wonders where they had taken his little girl.

  7. The old man walked out of the pastry store, carry the big brown paper bag full of rolls for his wife to cook into a cake. He wandered slowly across the left corner only to look into the thick darkness of the alley that flung him into his slow death.

  8. Everyone turned and stared quizzically. Something in her stomach twisted, but her eyes stayed level and passionate. The last words echoed in the concrete corners, ringing off the walls like bells from Bok Tower. A tingle rested on her tongue, where retaliations rested. The applause started, and the tingles disappeared.

  9. Golden waves of intelligence, the handiwork of men. A scarlet rose unraveled by the crimson blood dripping down. This is what holds us together. Lines of imperfect beauty and our love on her lips. We are no longer looking through the crescent together. Under the arc, I am alone.

  10. Girl smiles at boy. Boy smiles back. A feeling flickers between them- and then it is gone. Cold knife is passed from warm hand to warm hand. Girl coats fingers in paint. Boy draws colored hands across faces. Maps are folded. Packs are shouldered. Eyes are quick. The hunt begins.

  11. Lydia broke off from her preschool group at the enticing sight of the park swings. She felt a strong hand pushing her higher and higher into the clouds. Then she went from a feeling of pushing and pulling. The teacher still hadn’t noticed her missing. That’s how quick taking is.

  12. Growing up, up, up. Unfurling into green and pink beauty all admire. Green mast of water and string, slowly turning brown, then sinking into nothingness. Just fades into the background never to be seen again. Beauty comes in misconceptions, a matter of time, slowly blooming into life then gone the next.

  13. Keri sat on the edge of the building next to Sean. He’d acted strange lately, never talking. She took his hand, brushing her lips across his cheek.
    Sean turned away, gritting his teeth.
    “They contacted me, said I have 24 hours to choose.”
    Keri gasped at the implied organization.
    “I’m not gonna die, Keri.”
    He pushed her off the building.

  14. You drowned me with your kiss, then I suffocated in a sea. A furious cyclone of angst fell from my eyes. You held my hand, before abandoning me in a frigid forest. ‘I love you’ fell from deceitful lips. But you are gone and I’m wondering why I’m not dead.

  15. The world spins, then you fall. High heels breaking and you land. Face first. The coming months are full of patching. They take some from your hip and then stich it onto your face. Eyes maligned by seeing your body. You wish you could use those glasses you smashed. Sad.

  16. Nekkid in the creek and blood pooling and dissolving again in the water, on the rocks. The Bridge to Terabithia in real life, one would think. Nothing around but birds chirping as if nothing had happened. Dying alone had seemed unreal, like the mist. But not now. Not anymore.

  17. The hand holding. His lips claiming mine. Wedding bells. Our new home. Our love was strong, but nothing’s stronger than his cold grip on my throat. He was breathing, I was dying. He was smiling, I was crying. After the incident, I promised I’d watch over him.
    Now, I am.

  18. “Please,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

    She stares at you with a quiet kind of sadness, stationed next to a girl who looks exactly like her. They both hover a few feet off of the ground.

    She fingers the rope looped around the other girl’s swollen neck.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  19. So bitter this tasteless pall. Color removed, novelties resurgence. Sapped from a cradles wake I venture not to seek yet not act upon as well. Out of apprehension, perhaps. Or is it apathy or deception for seeing and observing are separate endeavors, the inconsequential eye hurried, the curious one wavering not until dispelled from illusion.

  20. Awake

    God’s pallet exists under a veil of Himalayan air where shades of indigo permeate into a lush countryside. My breathes become short and feet grow more and more weary, but my spirit hardens with the rock I tread and the summit is drawing near; Buzz, buzz, time for school.

  21. She lies on her belly in the grass and hardly dares to breathe, a scrap of meat held between her fingers. The fox flicks his velvety ears and inches closer, his golden eyes shifting from her to the meat. He sniffs the offering.
    “Renya!”
    He bolts back into the underbrush.

  22. “No more troubles!” My mother was angry enough to give herself a stroke.
    “I forgot, I’ll do it now.”
    Three minutes later.
    “I restarted the computer Mother, and it is working just fine.” She was still slamming pots in the kitchen. “I forgot.”
    “You are not allowed to forget. Simple.”

  23. I opened my front door to check my mailbox and to my surprise there placed was a newborn baby girl in a sweet grass basket with a note that read

    “I hear your prayers, I hear your soul”

    god” I kiss her and whispered in her ear “welcome home”.

  24. I woke up, looked around, nothing but endless grass hills in sight. I noticed I was sitting under a familiar tree since childhood.
    A well dressed strange man came from behind it smiling.”Where am I?’ I protested. He bent down and replied “Outside of time, enjoy your stay”.

  25. As Nina sat in front of her night time mirror brushing her long jet black mane, she asked her reflection was she beautiful. Her reflection turned its back and then back around. With pimples, brown teeth, and bulging eyes it responded, “What’s this to you?”.

  26. The last thirty-first, I made a list of twenty nine scrupulously chosen items. I carefully looked it over; the words had to be perfect. When February came, how happy I was, reading my list, yet frustrated I hadn’t achieved one. When February went; twenty nine of them went with it.

  27. My love smiled from the window. She waved, I waved back. Something glinted in the sunlight. My smile faded, my hand stilled. What had happened while I was away? Who was that man now standing by her, hand on her belly. Was that a bump? I hurried toward the gate.

  28. Lucy and I were pushed to the centre of the circle; white garb billowed out around us as they danced, clapped and chanted strange long-syllabled words. The priest then announced we were witches. He demanded whips be brought to deliver us. I sprang on him at once; the others fled.

  29. The old woman watched her cry all night. She empathized with her. She offered her a concoction which she drank without question.
    The following day saw a visit by the girl accompanied by a young man who couldn’t keep his eyes of her. She whispered one word.Thank you.

  30. The key gleamed in his calloused hand. Behind him, a childhood of broken promises and long struggles echoed the hallway. Marcus held his breath and faced the door. Years of backbreaking construction for Uncle, and turning cheek to easy money, led to this defining moment: a place of his own.

  31. Soooo, did y’all, like… pick a winner?

  32. Yes, we’ve run way over. The winner is coming. I promise. I’m sorry we are late, but there are so many great entries. We will post the winner by the end of the week. We have to contact the winner….

  33. If you are wondering who won the 50 word story contest, look here: https://www.everywritersresource.com/50-word-story-contest-winner-dianna-craig/ We are really sorry that it took so long! We had a lot going the last couple of weeks…

  34. Why Do Pigs Fly?

    I looked through the window all I saw was rain crashing down. My teacher was talking about Germany or something but I’m not paying attention. I saw a pig a flying and I stand up and walk out of the classroom to get a better, look then it hit me…

  35. The waters of fate.

    The room was dark.
    He lifted up the bag; a seemingly lifeless body was concealed inside.
    He dumped the cold body of his unwilling victim in the warm waters of its fate.
    It squirmed and wriggled.
    “I’ll call you Gary,” he said.
    Gary is a good name for a goldfish.

  36. The scarlet soaked into the crisp white carpet, running lengths over the wool. Mum looks over in horror at what I have done. The crimson laughs evilly at us from the light carpet, proud of what it has done.
    “You spilled the wine ” Mum shouts.

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