50 Word Fiction Misfit
Each month the Scottish Book Trust opens a challenge to write in merely fifty words a story
for which the Trust provides a 'prompt' on the website; a picture that should help to spark off your imagination and set you work around a flash story.
http://www.scottishbooktrust.com/writing/love-to-write/the-50-word-fiction-competition
February's prompt was this picture:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hellostanley/4534776744/
Anyway, my story unfortunately was proven unsuccessful (ach well... it was too clever and too allegorical for its kind), but the administrator took nonetheless the opportunity to encourage me to enter again, starting next Monday (March 3rd) with the March competition.
Will keep trying, I don't quit easily without hangovers of guilt and besides... I never believed in the no-win scenario.
Here's the story... I might use it eventually as a template for either a post-apocalyptic themed poem or a short story. The 50 words limit doesn't really do the idea and vision behind it any justice.
Squirms of people bolted towards the iron rivers. Hampered only by the few
insolent loners, gazing petrified at the billboards of their quotidian musings.
Each faction pulling the strings.
Outside the Grand Central, the God Plutonium gave the City a nuclear makeover.
Their pre-socratic strife would eventually outlast Armageddon.
for which the Trust provides a 'prompt' on the website; a picture that should help to spark off your imagination and set you work around a flash story.
http://www.scottishbooktrust.com/writing/love-to-write/the-50-word-fiction-competition
February's prompt was this picture:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hellostanley/4534776744/
Anyway, my story unfortunately was proven unsuccessful (ach well... it was too clever and too allegorical for its kind), but the administrator took nonetheless the opportunity to encourage me to enter again, starting next Monday (March 3rd) with the March competition.
Will keep trying, I don't quit easily without hangovers of guilt and besides... I never believed in the no-win scenario.
Here's the story... I might use it eventually as a template for either a post-apocalyptic themed poem or a short story. The 50 words limit doesn't really do the idea and vision behind it any justice.
Squirms of people bolted towards the iron rivers. Hampered only by the few
insolent loners, gazing petrified at the billboards of their quotidian musings.
Each faction pulling the strings.
Outside the Grand Central, the God Plutonium gave the City a nuclear makeover.
Their pre-socratic strife would eventually outlast Armageddon.
Comments
But I loved the story and it has the bud of a full blown sci fi in there too.