Ever heard of Flash Fiction? Or Mini- Sagas? Here are 21 short stories. During a private lovers retreat to Joshua Tree, I took an informal workshop with creativity coach Tatyana Brown who introduced me to 50 word stories. It’s a simple craft. A bit like writing Haikus. It’s one of the best ways to learn word concision. Since I am currently writing a new book, I’ve been practicing word sprints and thought I’d re-print my first week of raw and random stories. Some are sick and twisted. Some are sacred. Such is life. Enjoy. (For instructions on how to write a 50 word story, scroll to the bottom.)
Lesbians love dinner dates. The trick is to master one irresistible dish. In college, I’d cook the “eggplant boat” on every first date. After just a few bites, they’d inevitably jump in bed with me. Afterwards, they weren’t as interested in my skills in the kitchen, as what I could do in bed.
#2
They already know. I rationalize. Why state the obvious? They’ve pretended their little boy will outgrow his social deviance for over twenty years now. Meanwhile, my boyfriend’s sick of being regarded as my roommate. He deserves his proper title. Aha! Maybe a wedding invitation will say it all for us.
#3
She wore an amputated cervix from after her second birth. The day they cut the cancer off, she finally felt free from her childhood abuse, but doctors left doubt inside. Could she ever enjoy pressure, pleasure, passion again? Until, tonight. It melted. By my lightning touch, she became whole.
#4
Mamma commanded me to guard her bath when a Shiva returned from battle calling her name. I drew my sword and lost my head. My useless body crumpled to earth. Inconsolable, she cursed him for killing his own son. With an elephants head I was resurrected and pronounced lord Ganesha.
#5
The baby flops around like a live fish. My belly looks like I could’ve swallowed the whole aquarium. All of this internal movement arouses me. As if there’s not enough action in there, I want to stuff more in. Nothing can satisfy me.
#6
Parents are out. I’m stuck home doing chores for my allowance The vacuum tube accidentally catches my thigh. Like a massage, it pulls. Hmmm, I wonder. Doors locked. Dwars down. Oh God. And again. Three times later I rest. Feeling a little guilty about getting fifty cents.
#7
When she asked for a tantric ritual, I thought, Sweet! She wants to play in my realm. I prepared to worship her every breath and movement. But she couldn’t withstand the ego flood that said she didn’t deserve. So she shut down. Then blamed me.
#8
Innocence surrendered to her first penetrative experience (by something other than her own finger.) He was hot and eager. She was perhaps too trusting. When he said, “I love you,” she naively assumed his adoration would withstand the explosion of sexual fluids that henceforth defined her as a female ejaculator.
#9
Our four-way garden of Eden was shattered by a text message which read “this isn’t working for us.” We left about a dozen messages, begging for clarity. I suspect our intensity freaked them out. At least now my husband will admit we are more than just swingers.
#10
The farmer felt spited by a defective daughter with three boobs. Yet she knew in her marrow the defect would dissolve upon meeting her love. Shunned to the village outskirts, she was the first to spot the sky-clad sadhu en-rout to teach the elders of God’s sick sense of humor.
# 11
Your head on my pillow, finally rests after three days of passionate ego storms since we first met. Love vs. Fantasy. The winds of naked, risk-all romantic possibility ripped through my canyon leaving me wet, baptized and hungry for more. Though future hurricane forecasts are unknowable, nature always prevails.
# 12
The construction worker fetish never did anything for her. She almost didn’t notice the Mexicans on her roof. In their splattered blue jeans and straw hats but when Ricardo strutted onto the job with his overalls and bandana, like her daddy used to wear. Her nipples suddenly stood at attention.
#13
She cradles his balls and uses long strokes to circulate orgasmic energy from his erect penis to his heart, leaving a kiss between his nipples. She concludes the session by offering seamen to Shiva. Afterwards, he presents his police badge and says it’s unlike any therapy he’s ever had.
#14
Despite the casting director’s expert opinion, the writer insists I play the lead. As if her rape-redemption story wasn’t psychotic enough, she says I remind her of herself. I’m sorry but the story stirs up memories I’d rather keep locked within my personal basement than have to relive onstage.
#15
As a kid she rubbed a “magic lamp” and hoped that when she grew up she could walk into a room and everyone would notice her but somehow belly-dancing in a empty Middle Eastern restaurant was not what she had in mind. She hates her job. Stupid second hand lamp.
#16
Sploop! She squirts plain organic yogurt into her cunt with a plastic turkey-baster and lays back on the bathroom linoleum. Painted toenails stretching skyward as she counts: fifty-nine. Mississippi. Sixty. There. That should take care of her Candida. Down with the slippery microscopic bastards so she can finally fuck again.
# 17
My A/C went on the fritz again. My landlord sent his dyke daughter over to wait for the electrician. The tenants all call her “Natalie the Nympho.” It was extra HOT when I got home from work and found them on my bed, using my toys, before fixing my A/C.
#18
“So, how many people have you slept with?” He asks between coughs.“I never counted,” She lies and changes the subject without admitting the growing list she kept hidden in her dormitory night-stand. Ultimately she gave up, not because she couldn’t remember their names, but because she never learned them.
#19
She let the “drunk bastard” sleep on her couch again. This was the last time, she swore. But sometime before 2 AM he slipped under her down comforter and did that thing he does with his pierced tongue. Who couldn’t forgive the father of her son, he could always lick clean any grudge.
#20
He rolled up to the packed night club in his beat-up Cadillac with charred upholstery. That didn’t stop him from smoking. He cut in line, and squeezed into the VIP lounge. He ordered a martini and let her take a few sips, before distracting her and slipping her the rufies.
#21
She sent her lover away with a fuck he’d never forget. Then cried buckets and marveled at how he’d never cease to make her wet. After months of masturbation she had mastered her etheric cock and when he returned she discovered he was even better in fantasy than bed.
If you are interested in this 50 word short form of writing, try the following instruction or contact Tatyana Brown. [email protected]
- Write longhand, 5 words a line, 10 lines down
- Not titles, but numbers for each day.
- Take a vacation and get as far away from your everyday life as possible.
- Use your senses.
- Start in the middle.
REMEMBER: A “story” counts as some kind of character for the reader to identify with, and some kind of transition. Thank you Tatyana.
