Here’s your challenge.
Choose one of the following wild animals:
Now, write a three-sentence story from the perspective — first person POV — of that animal.
You are encouraged to anthropomorphize the animal — meaning, the animal acts and thinks as a human would. It’s okay to write about the animal as an animal, or the animal in the animal’s expected spaces, but it’s also fine to think outside of the box (a spy story featuring a cougar, a science-fiction story starring a wolf, a morality tale starring a mouse, etc.).
Any genre will do.
The stories should be PG-13. No sex or gore or strong profanity.
I know. Unusual for this site.
And here’s why:
Bear71 is a documentary and installation about the life and death of a tagged grizzly bear and the surveillance that surrounds this bear. The experience will present at Sundance New Frontier this year — information here — and the best stories of this bunch will become a part of the overall installation (they may, for instance, show up at the installation itself or be included as a part of the Bear71 social media outreach).
Why submit a story? It’s for a good cause and a poignant storytelling experience.
(Also, you retain all rights to your story and can do with it as you wish.)
You’ve got one week — till January 20th, noon EST, to get your stories in.
To submit: please post your three-sentence story in the comments below. Make sure to include a name to receive credit and/or a Twitter handle where appropriate.
Go forth and write.
120 responses to “Flash Fiction Challenge: “Three Sentences For Bear71””
I’m high, high in the sky, that’s me, high and above everyone else.
Oh look down there, it’s land creatures, not so high as me.
I wonder what would happen if I pooped on them?
Black talons have snared the mouse, pierced its flesh, yet the tiny creature manages to whisper one last request to the stone-faced bird. “Please, tell me what it’s like up there, flying high above the world.”
“Lonely,” says the eagle as he snaps the mouse’s neck.
[…] weeks Flash Fiction challenge over at terribleminds.com is to write a three-sentence story from the perspective of an animal. I was surprised by how […]
He tilted his head back and to the side, staring with one eye at the other ram. A nearby ewe flinched away as they clashed, horns slamming together with a dry clack. Sounds of their combat echoed through the dry autumn air until the other ram staggered away, defeated at last.
Criticism highly welcome – http://kaimicheals.com/wp/?p=16
Get around. Get around. I get around.
(imagine a Beach Boys tune playing in your head in the background)
I do not believe in the monster in the deeps, of which my mother told me when I was a calf, that will crush you inaudibly, so that you cannot sing even as the searching cries of the pod so near above you resound. I do not believe in its tentacles; I do not believe in its grinding teeth. I dive in song, soon to return.
Each morning, the mouse crept to the edge of his hole to listen to the princess sing. Her melodious strains about the prince of her dreams filled him with a longing he couldn’t describe. But he thought it strange to sing about a prince who never came.
emilycaseysmusings at gmaildotcom
I woke to the sound, like the mountain falling piece by piece into the valley below. I could only watch, as I had watched his father, and his father before him; bloody ambition streaked down his nose, his pride like his horns, chipped and broken. “Not today, son.” [BIGHORN SHEEP]
As I have gathered my strength, I have had much time to reflect on my brothers and sisters long gone. On the hatreds and emnities that consumed them – but then, I have no choice in the matter. The only way I can counter bad blood is to bite the hand that feeds. [MOSQUITO]
And my twitter handle is @ruthmidget. Thanks!
Let the blood drip over my paws as I glanced over into the extended pupils of the dying welp. Simple soul. No way for me to tell it the compassion I felt for its trembling shell of a life.
The bigger bucks didn’t take me seriously, so I joined their rutting tourney.
All the herd leader did was dip his head, and I ran.
What a rack!
[…] week’s challenge — “Three Sentences For Bear71” is up. I’ll keep folks updated on that page if any are selected and incorporated into […]
I’m’a bear, I’m’a bear, I’m’a big dancing happy bear! I like berries, yes I do, yes I do like berries and I’m stuffing all the berries into my mouf as fast as I can because I’m’a bear and I like berries, oh yes I do, I dance for berries, look at my berry dance, dance, dance, I’m’a bear, nom nom nom!
Great, you’re a bear Frank, we all know that because we’re all bears, not stop doing your stupid berry dance and get to eating, we have a long winter ahead of us, which makes me so happy you’re in another gorram den than I am because I can’t stand your stupid hibernate dance either.
They brought a second one home! The new meowing beast is bigger than the first, and towers between me and the food. I mutter a prayer and launch myself between its paws, hoping to grab the cracker as I slide past.
The people keep talking about a “black death,” but I don’t know. I think I’ll write home and tell my family to come on the next ship. This place is paradise for a rat–so much food!
I didn’t think it was spring yet, but the smell of food was intoxicating. The entrance to my cave passed by in a blur, and before I knew it, I stood before a circle of little ones. One saw me and they all ran, leaving me to eat alone, as always.
Even though victory comes at a cost and will not be realized immediately, my efforts are not in vain. The deadly virus I carry within my being is the ultimate weapon against the homo sapiens who seek to destroy my kind. One sting before I die, and we will prevail – eventually.
[…] Written for a Friday Flash Fiction Challenge by Chuck Wendig: “Three Sentences for Bear 71″ […]