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So I used to do a lot of writing but I'm now at university for postgrad work, and I'm rarely able to finish writing stories or novel-length pieces. I got in touch with an English teacher of mine from my childhood and she gave me a challenge to try and be succinct: given one or two prompts, write something in exactly fifty words, no more, no less, that is satisfying to read in and of itself. Preferably complete with start, middle and end, but if you were to read it, it would make sense and would work well.
They don't take very long to do and I think it would be nice to have some way of flexing conciseness, creativity and exploring what people would do with it here.
The prompts can be anything, I'll start off with a couple of prompts and what I wrote out for them. Any takers?
Prompts:
a knife and a door;
the first law of space travel, and a mug that isn't yours;
an open door and a politician.
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An open door and a politician
"No, thank you, I'm a bit busy." The Jehovah's Witnesses looked disappointed. "Sorry, I've got to, uh, feed the… cat." The charity worker hesitated as the door shut in his face. "Um, can you come back later?" The MP nodded tiredly. I paused. "No, actually, come in. I'll finish later."
The first law of space travel, and a mug that isn't yours
"Commander Ryman." The door hissed, letting the officer through. The habitat room was warm from appliances as she headed for the crockery cupboard. She nodded at Lieutenant Jackson, Commander Ryman and Lieutenant Barnes, opened the cupboard and reached for an absent mug, freezing in place as weapons were swiftly drawn.
A knife and a door
"We have the room surrounded!" the sergeant yelled through the door. "You've got nowhere to run!" An unnerving silence replied. The officer scowled and signalled to the breaching team. They raised the battering ram when the door burst open and she flew from the room, moving like a knife.
>>
The door jammed open
the knife jabbed home
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>>9136701
Three months of work and I expected a warm homecoming. Not being greeted by laughter from the bedroom and a meal half-prepared. A kitchen knife lay unattended, filleting a fish, mirroring the twisting feeling in my gut as squeals from the bouncing mattress fell through the open bedroom door.
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