55 Words (1)
Her warrant hidden! With a sceptical expression slid her breasts into the kit-bag style bra, thinking 'I volunteered for this poxy assignment.'
Now she was on her own . Her outfit called to mind an explosion in a paint factory. Her time with super trooper imminent.
Stepping forward, HE is the pantomime dame Widow Twanky.
55 Words (2)
They strolled hand-in-hand beneath the wedding arch, she in her frothy shining gown, he handsome in his bespoke suit.
All guests eyes were upon them, smiling and hugging. He gave her a shy kiss, then ran and fetched them both a drink.
Both mothers, very happy, calling
"Come children - Kindergarten tomorrow!"
"Tell me!" He said again, with a bit more force this time.
"I only ask because of the ludicrous position you've put me in."
"When are you going to do something?"
"I've been waiting twenty minutes now!" He shouted.
Impatience and annoyance took over and he swung a punch at the life-like waxwork.
Newham Writers Workshop
Raw night. Freezing wind. Sputtering fire. Snow.
He hunched close, inhaling wood smoke and warmth.
Wolves howling. Distant. Then closer.
Bright eyes in the darkness.
Reaching for his club. Fear without panic.
By the time he realized he was awake, he had beaten his Alarm-Clock nearly to death.
Existential moment for a spider
or A fly in the ointment
The spider remained motionless in his web, having spent all morning weaving. He was proud of his oeuvre, jeweled with pearl-like dewdrops.
He felt it tremble and contemplated eating the annoying foreign substance disturbing his equilibrium.
He resolved no longer to be a cruel predator, suppressed his hunger and decided to 'suffer for his art'.
High Peak Writers
"You Ain't Nothin' But a Shoeshine"
Lexington and 125th: Litos used to set up his shoeshine box, call on seniors, boliteros, hustlers, street preachers, Brother X with black suit greeting with peace and love ("Do you have Muhammad Speaks"?): "the best shine in El Barrio, 15 cents."
Now stands Pathmark, Odd Lots Bargain Store. This is life under corporate gentrification USA.
(c) Carlos Raul Dufflar
"Seen On Bloor Street by High Park, Toronto"
I was waiting for the night bus when emerged a figure from the forest. The shadow moving silently only let its silhouette appear under the street light.
Its tail, extended featherlike, was my only identifying clue: a city fox. But only for a moment. As a car's glaring headlight approached, it retreated into its sanctuary.
(C) Angel L. Martinez
UP! OUT! LIFT!
How many times?
TEN! ONCE AGAIN
I can't keep up,
ELSIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Lifting my arms
THIS EXERCISE IS FOR LEGS!
Can't lift my legs,
ALRIGHT GIRLS! ARMS AKIMBO! RAISE ELBOWS!
ELSIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Lifting my legs,
NO! NO! NO!
WHO WOULD BE A TEACHER?
I welcomed my bed after a hard day. The cat indoors, lights turned out, I went upstairs.
Through my bedroom window I saw two young foxes, playing in the moonlight under the trees.
I still wonder if that was a dream, the foxes, bathed in silver, gambolling so happily.
Stevenage survivors poetry group
Straight From The Horses Mouth
"Did it win?"
"Like you said it would!"
"Have you got the money?"
"It's safe, don't worry"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's on my selection in the next race"
"That wasn't a part of our deal! What time does the race start?"
"Soon, real soon"
"What's the horse called?"
"One second after you're dead"
Antony May 25/2/10
Sigmund might have loved you,
his anal complex made flesh in one so gentle.
My opener asks," What do you tell folk you do?",
to diffuse embarrassment.
She says,"A nurse" almost lullabying the vowel,
then,"Over in the B.R.I some do this all day.
I need variety". An insidious finger presses against my lips.
HOPE AND ASHES
They had been discussing American politics, its failings, gridlock and polarization.
"You know what that leaves." Rich said, "The two r's. Revolution or revenge."
He quelled; revenge bitter, arctic, revolution dark and cannibalistic.
"There is another r word. Brighter, healthier."
"Oh yeah, what?" sarcastically bemused.
He looked at him a long moment, said quietly, "Renaissance."
WHY WON'T HE GO AWAY?
I felt like hitting him with my fist
if only I could reach him,
There he stood ringing my doorbell!
I could hear the sound echoing in my head.
I could see him from my upstairs window,
I had no intention of going down
till I saw the fire engines arrive
Outside in the street.
A story in exactly 55 Words
"Darling, I hate you."
Ignoring her, he sipped his coffee.
"I'm not staying unless you apologise."
He bit into his doughnut.
"Apologise right now, or I'm going, and I won't be back."
She looked up as a blonde woman in a red coat approached their table.
He stood up. "Cynthia, I'm going with Dolores. Goodbye."
She had had enough, now of all times the bumper had fallen off which had punctured the tyres of the car behind her, which had caused the car behind to swerve and the one behind that hit him and now there was a pile up, her car insurance just would no t cover this personal effrontery.
Thora reached into the draw. Locating the secret compartment, she removed the small hand-gun. Calmly and professionally, she loaded the bullets.
"Can I really be doing this?" she asked herself. Further thoughts came: "I hate being restricted, being abridged." Sensing the end was near, she pointed the gun at the dictionary, and fired.
By Robert Brandon
Grass Roots Open Writers
He must have betrayed her. She felt sick inside. Now what? They were coming upstairs. She looked around desperately. Nowhere to hide. No way out. She watched the door handle slowly turn and held her breath as the door opened, creaking ominously. Her heart pounded as they peered in.
"We've found you!" they cried triumphantly.
55-Word Short Story
"What's this muscle do?". She adjusted the light.
A dust truck set up a clamour of lids.
I couldn't move at all now but the pain was gone.
A tear of sweat travelled my back- she shut the window and wiped.
In the mirror the clock swiped 9..
A donkey lost its footing somewhere close.