Last week’s challenge: Superheroes Plus!
This week’s challenge is an old favorite — one that’s easy to describe, yet difficult in execution.
I want you to write a single story in three sentences.
Not a snapshot. Not a vignette. A complete story. Beginning, middle, and end.
Three sentences.
Easy to half-ass — but challenging to execute with elegance and power.
But, life’s too short not to give it a go, so: you are challenged.
*throws down glove*
*fires starting pistol*
*Tasers you or whatever*
Ahem.
The way to do this is easy:
Go to the comments below and write your three sentence story directly into a comment. Shorter is better than longer — if your story hits 100 words, you might wanna rethink the length.
Think about plot, rhythm, character.
Contained in the small package of three sentences.
I’ll pick an unnumbered handful of ones I like, and to those I dig, I’ll toss digital codes for all my writing-related e-books (with the exception of The Kick-Ass Writer, which is not mine to automatically distribute for free).
You get one entry only. Multiple entries disqualifies you.
Some loose suggestions:
Check your spelling.
Don’t be cliche.
Read other people’s entries so you don’t replicate them.
Write it in a word processor first. Give it edits before posting.
Do not settle for mediocrity.
The story is due by next Friday, August 1st, at noon EST.
WINNERS
Okay, the winners are (correct me if I have this wrong):
Momdude!
Ellsimp!
Andrew F. Butters!
Martin Wells!
Ryan Nolte!
You folks:
Email me at terribleminds at gmail dot com. Congrats!
Ed says:
Fire and light flared through the darkness, burning the shadows alive. They sought refuge in the depths of their holes, while the light spiraled around looking for a way in. They wait there, still imprisoned by the circling light, waiting for the fires to die and for night to return.
July 28, 2014 — 7:48 AM
nadiats says:
The water was warm, pleasant even. She slipped comfortably inside and let the blood flow as she felt the sweat release wash over her. ‘Finally’ she thought.
July 28, 2014 — 9:45 AM
Chris says:
I thought he was going to rob me when he grabbed my shoulders – hands stiff and twisted like old cables – shook me around and shouted, “What time is it?”
I saw dried raisin skin and baby-doll chemo hair, so just said, “Uh, ten o’clock, man.”
Then he grinned – teeth gummy and calcified like old batteries – shook me again and shouted, “You crazy bastards, it worked!”
July 28, 2014 — 10:06 AM
druscillamorganwriter says:
Nice work 🙂
July 28, 2014 — 6:35 PM
KT (@WildBilbo) says:
Seriously, love this one.
July 28, 2014 — 7:31 PM
Eileen says:
This is great!
July 28, 2014 — 11:13 PM
SarSaparilla72 says:
Doc BTTF on his return in the DeLorean? Nicely written though.
July 29, 2014 — 8:39 AM
Chris says:
Thanks a lot! Glad you liked it. Oh, and SarSaparilla72, HA HA HA I didn’t even think about the Doc reference until you mentioned it lol!
July 31, 2014 — 9:38 PM
Amy says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 9:49 PM
Anastasia says:
When it all began in a boiling fiery crush, I was there. When each of you emerged from the undergrowth and became what you were supposed to be with such sudden, surprising rightness I was watching, rapt. Now I am here for the end—the silent, dispassionate tearing as the stars drift away and slowly blink out—and feel a creeping fear that even afterwards, when there is nothing, I will still be here, watching.
July 28, 2014 — 10:07 AM
Andrew Conlon says:
He ordered the cameras turned on; the movie screen lit up, displaying a panoramic live shot of the city. The glass towers and spires of his hometown dripped morning sunlight, the sidewalks teemed with townspeople, those cruel mobs that had turned his childhood home and all its joy into a gaping black abyss. With a great sense of relief, he fired the warhead and watched as the missile trail arced toward Main Street, making a smoky rainbow in the sky.
July 28, 2014 — 11:20 AM
Robyn Briggs says:
Torn between two parents she stood at the edge of the cliff. For sixteen years she had lived as a girl walking among men. But the song of her mother was too strong, so she shed her legs, and dove into the sea.
July 28, 2014 — 1:45 PM
Jasmine I. says:
Placing the check down, he noticed snaking rivers of black mascara cutting deep tunnels into her carefully applied foundation and he winced with disgust.
On the table, red seal blazing and Merlot stained by her wanton disregard for such formalities, lay a Decree of Divorce and a worn thin band of gold.
When she died he too could stop pretending to love her, just as his father had done.
July 28, 2014 — 3:02 PM
Rhyan says:
Two girls sit in their apartment, ready for the fight, packed with their rune covered blades and holy water, there is a sudden crash and a large black daemon emerges through the dust, the flames protruding from it’s twisted body licking the wooden frame. The smaller of the two girls screams as the daemon rushes them attacking her sister, she watches as the body slumps to the floor with a sick dull crack. Her father comes out of nowhere and grabs her arm, pulling in vain to get her out of the apartment and the bloodcurdling sound of her scream can be heard over 100 more, her beloved sister is dead.
July 28, 2014 — 3:18 PM
Marion says:
She gave up her sweet little cottage to move back home.
The doctor said “You’re mother doesn’t have much time left.”
That was fifteen years ago.
July 28, 2014 — 5:51 PM
Colwell (@QuillRat) says:
+1
So hard to choose, read through everyone’s multiple times. This one’s tidy brevity implying so much trapped bitterness won me over.
August 1, 2014 — 2:11 PM
Nathan Casey says:
if reality is subjective and your world can change in an instant of epiphany, then my birth – or at least the birth of my purpose – was the sound of metal fist on flesh-and bone face. Furious, frenzied, fallopian. I emerged a blood-soaked sack of meat… but inside I shone.
July 29, 2014 — 3:11 AM
Ashlee Jade says:
It was the greatest city ever constructed. They said it could never be destroyed, but they were wrong and he was emperor. The city burned before him as he strummed his lyre and laughed.
July 29, 2014 — 9:13 AM
hapax says:
no I will not run with you to chase the rainbows end you said the illusion cannot be physically approached
a meteorologic artifact of atmosphere and angle you said only a sunbeam broken
my gold cloud hoard bleeds rain like tears and I wait for you
July 29, 2014 — 10:24 AM
Martin Wells says:
“Hold my hand, dear” the teacher kindly said on my first day of school as an evacuee from London. When my parents were killed in an air raid she became my new mother. “Hold my hand, dear” she quietly murmured 52 years later from her hospital bed before leaving this world.
July 29, 2014 — 11:04 AM
Jenni says:
Nice.
July 31, 2014 — 3:55 PM
Martin Wells says:
thanks, Jenni
August 1, 2014 — 3:55 AM
fadedglories says:
A well-rounded tale. I liked it.
August 1, 2014 — 9:22 AM
Martin Wells says:
thanks, fadedglories
August 1, 2014 — 9:45 AM
leedunning says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 12:50 PM
Martin Wells says:
thanks, Lee
August 1, 2014 — 1:01 PM
Cal says:
+1
Very nice
August 4, 2014 — 5:16 AM
Martin Wells says:
thanks, Cal
August 4, 2014 — 6:20 AM
Flixnut says:
+1 Nicely done…
August 4, 2014 — 12:04 PM
Martin Wells says:
thanks, Flixnut
August 4, 2014 — 12:46 PM
Eric Pederson says:
“17”
A grin broke on the fireman’s sooty face as he told the joke. They all laughed. Then they pulled Penelope’s charred legs from the car.
July 29, 2014 — 5:20 PM
Ryan Nolte says:
I swore to myself that I would never let the nightmarish experience of that night happen again. The next day I stole the sharpest knife I could find in the kitchen and hid it under my pillow. The night he came back, it was his blood and not mine that stained the sheets in the dead of night.
July 29, 2014 — 10:47 PM
Adan Ramie says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 12:03 PM
Lonna Jo says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 3:21 PM
Mozette says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 8:40 PM
LittleBlackDog says:
Wow! This was fun, but challenging. Here’s my attempt:
The humid night air clings to me, sticky and glistening, as I tug my miniskirt a little lower and hunt for a cab. I don’t find one: I grasp at his shirt, my hands weakening as hot ropes of blood stream down my neck to pool in the hollow of my throat. I spread my fingers in the warm earth; I go to sleep.
July 29, 2014 — 11:47 PM
Adan Ramie says:
When she was twelve years old, her mother sold her to the man next door, and to him, she bore a son. Her boy loved apple slices, and he ate them all day, until right before bed. In the morning, she found him blue, and vowed to keep apples away from children forever.
July 29, 2014 — 11:58 PM
Kurt Bali says:
He began running, not knowing why, but understanding his life was in jeopardy. The dead girl’s father stepped into the clearing, his blood-covered hands clutching a rifle. The man, guilty only of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, never heard the shot that crashed through his skull, ending his life before his body hit the pavement.
July 29, 2014 — 11:59 PM
David Walther says:
She who had power smote the weak. But those knocked over were the ones that made her shoes. Thus her feet blistered and the queen learned to knit socks.
July 30, 2014 — 5:09 AM
Jill F. says:
My heart is pounding in my chest as a familiar-looking face walks into the restaurant. “I recognize you from your OkCupid profile, so you have to be Lauren.” I nod and nervously invite him to join me for lunch, my Pinterest pins for wedding ideas creeping into my thoughts.
July 30, 2014 — 7:53 AM
industrykarl says:
They were childhood best friends who sprinted away together across the knolls to foreign hallways while their mothers were being abused by suburban, upper middle-class men. Once there they’d sing songs, any song, hands entwined for protection, quieting whenever tenants passed by. Their young friendship didn’t last, unable to withstand the ferocity of one mother’s nervous breakdown and subsequent religious conversion.
July 30, 2014 — 10:31 AM
Dan says:
“The world is ending”, she said, “And it’s partly your fault”.
They talked while they waited; little by little, he started to agree.
He was just about to say so, when the lights went out.
July 30, 2014 — 11:01 AM
Rebecca Douglass says:
Lots of entries this week–have fun deciding, Wendig! This was a good exercise to ease me back into writing after a 5-week vacation.
I should have cried over my last sunrise on earth. Multicolored and lasting, it was worth a few tears. But all I could think as they strapped me into the launch capsule was, “I alone will survive; I shall live to tell the tale!”
July 30, 2014 — 12:05 PM
Brandon O'Brien says:
I keep my sister in a box. We watch sitcoms together. She likes popsicles.
July 30, 2014 — 2:09 PM
Eric Pederson says:
+1
I think in a 3 sentence story, most of the story has to be implied. I like this brevity, and I think the story steeps a bit like tea, if you give it a chance.
… I’ll admit I did not manage to read all 300+ stories, it looks like there are many very good ones.
August 1, 2014 — 4:25 PM
brendanshawBrandon O'Brien says:
Thanks!
August 1, 2014 — 4:54 PM
D.R.Sylvester says:
+1
Eric explained why perfectly.
August 1, 2014 — 11:02 PM
Leah Cannon says:
Yep – creepy and conjures up so many questions. I love it.
August 3, 2014 — 5:32 PM
Leah Cannon says:
+1
August 3, 2014 — 5:43 PM
Sarah D. says:
While driving home for Christmas on a cold winter’s day I saw her, dressed in black walking alongside the road and asked if she wanted a ride.
When we got out of the car, Rosie my old lab came to greet us, the girl stayed for three weeks without a word, as I was about to leave for school she handed me a train schedule.
We stood on opposite sides of the tracks, the train passed and she was gone, two years later I received a note thanking my family
July 30, 2014 — 2:10 PM
ellsimp says:
The view from the peak was gorgeous; vast, endless and blue. Julia offered a warm smile to her husband as the wind wafted an unfamiliar perfume into her face. She placed her hand on the small of his back.
July 30, 2014 — 4:11 PM
LittleBlackDog says:
I like!
July 31, 2014 — 2:10 AM
Jen says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 12:19 PM
maryannebarsotti says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 12:40 PM
LittleBlackDog says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 6:35 PM
Janna G. Noelle says:
Inevitably, when word got out about the social media psych experiments, the response was outrage – that making people artificially happy or sad or attracted to those they’d normally eschew was unprincipled, and that some things were best left to the heart and the heavens, and only a minimally intrusive amount of mathematics. The social media psych heads made the appropriate sounds of contrition in public, yet silently marked the day of forced human breeding much closer than many knew to count. The truth, indeed, lie among the stars.
July 30, 2014 — 6:26 PM
Sare says:
She thought that they had been lying when they told her about the things that walked along the beach at night. They had not been lying. Now, she could not forget.
July 30, 2014 — 6:53 PM
Curtis Lyon says:
I saw him sit down with her on the park bench, enjoying life and nature together. Even though I was frustrated by this change of events, I couldn’t help but feel warmed by the sight of them falling in love, sipping from each other’s lips. But I still had a job to do, so I steadied my aim and squeezed the trigger.
July 31, 2014 — 1:51 AM
fadedglories says:
Nice and mean.
August 1, 2014 — 9:24 AM
Andre Gonzalez says:
She flew over the city smiling, arms spread and chin up, the wind fiercely gyres around her cape. The article reported her cape as a towel and her public housing building negligible. She was four.
July 31, 2014 — 2:02 AM
Josh says:
Iniquity, pestilence and war abound, scaring the womb that bore us. The children of Gaia are drowning in a sea of chaos, who is responsible I ask as I search for the culprit. A familiar voice laughs in my head and to my horror, I now understand that the chaos emanates from the maelstrom of my mind!
July 31, 2014 — 2:38 AM
Leah says:
“This will be twenty-seven times, Jule, we can’t do more than thirty,” Alan bellowed.
Juliet nodded, hair wild in the rush and swoop of air that always preceded a leap, and shouted back, “Don’t worry, it’ll be different this time, I promise.”
As the familiar wrench of breath and bones caught hold and eased, she steeled herself for his shriek, watched him fall once more down the cliff-face, and then turned in the opposite direction and began to run.
July 31, 2014 — 4:47 AM
Lawerence Hawkins says:
Yesterday, I fought for the glory of so many yesterdays.
Today, I’ll just fight for the best possible tomorrow.
If I’m still fighting tomorrow, don’t expect a reason.
July 31, 2014 — 11:24 AM
hapax says:
I think this is my favorite one so far.
July 31, 2014 — 4:04 PM
fadedglories says:
Deep.
August 1, 2014 — 9:26 AM
TheAnsible says:
Shelly, the cute girl next door, got a puppy for her birthday. I tried to impress her by offering to train it. To this day, I’m still not allowed in her house–which is a damn shame, because I left my pinky toe in her dog’s mouth, and eventually I’m gonna want it back.
July 31, 2014 — 2:17 PM
AE Smith says:
Martin’s handwriting is all slants and loops, and the angles of it remind me of the curve of his spine, bathed in moonlight underneath white sheets. ‘Fotheringay was a decoy- they are coming for you- get out NOW’. Behind me, I hear the clicking of a latch.
July 31, 2014 — 3:54 PM
EP says:
John tossed his gun belt, let his jeans drop, and enjoyed the air on his privates as he watched the long, golden piss he had been holding since Tehachapi Pass fall down into the canyon. He thought about shooting the horse – he had no water for it – but he had no taste for guns anymore.
He heard them first, then he smelled their dust, their horses and their rotten hunger for vengeance, but he did not bother to look back.
July 31, 2014 — 4:20 PM
Lucy Waterfall says:
He mailed her a sigh of a poem – long with longing, damp with despair. She read it, ripped it to shreds, taped it together and strode to him, trailing fiery scarves and musky cats. The rest of his pages were blank.
July 31, 2014 — 4:53 PM
fadedglories says:
I think this is a love story but it’s good writing even if I have the wrong emotion.
August 1, 2014 — 9:29 AM
Lucy Waterfall says:
Thanks so much! I hoped it may work as a love story…but you can take it however suits your mood. Today I’m finding them both quite high maintenance.
August 3, 2014 — 7:05 AM
industrykarl says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 4:18 PM
fadedglories says:
+1
August 2, 2014 — 2:37 AM
Leah Cannon says:
Love it
August 3, 2014 — 5:34 PM
Joe Parrish says:
The house sat upon the hilltop, abandoned forever, its gaping maw open for all to see. You were going to enter it, despite the tales, desperate to prove yourself, unafraid you enter, as you cross the threshold the doors snap shut leaving you in darkness. Later as the maw reopens nothing but a mouth like hole in the floor, never to be seen again.
July 31, 2014 — 5:38 PM
William Grit says:
http://williamgrit.com/2014/08/01/karate-class-4/
July 31, 2014 — 8:37 PM
thewigglefish says:
At first it was simply an idea, a tiny crack in our once-perfect love, a fissure that deepened with each wayward glance, awkward silence, and “late night at the office” until it finally grew into the full-blown suspicion that drove me to follow you and to bring along that old handgun you kept by our bed.
You were angry, as if it was my fault for bursting in on you and that bitch in the middle of such an intimate moment, making it seem like you were the victim here, and even telling me to shut up and calm down, which is when I laughed and pulled out the gun.
I only wish you could’ve seen the dumbfounded look on your face as I emptied the gun: three bullets for her, so you could watch, then two for you, right in your stupid face, and now the last one, for me.
July 31, 2014 — 10:07 PM
sydneygael says:
Very nice!
July 31, 2014 — 11:46 PM
M.R. Dorough says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 4:47 PM
Teresa Thomas says:
Capture my heart, he who smiled back, and I’ll be yours forever
It’s time to replace paralyzing fear with abundant courage
All that’s left is one click on my ebony mouse
July 31, 2014 — 10:35 PM
momdude says:
When she met him, he was funny, intelligent, and everything she had ever hoped for in a husband. When they raised their children, he was faithful, hardworking, and a pillar of the community. When she disposed of his body, he was heavy, unwieldy, and a pain in the ass to drag through the woods.
August 1, 2014 — 1:02 AM
David Wilson says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 5:17 PM
momdude says:
Thanks, David!
August 3, 2014 — 10:32 AM
Joseph says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 5:58 PM
momdude says:
Thanks, Joseph!
August 3, 2014 — 10:32 AM
Annika says:
+1
August 2, 2014 — 3:20 AM
momdude says:
Thanks, Annika!
August 3, 2014 — 10:33 AM
William Grit says:
+1
August 2, 2014 — 11:22 AM
momdude says:
Thanks, William!
August 3, 2014 — 10:33 AM
Annika says:
“Would I ever betray you?” he asks, grin crooked and eyes bright with cold fire.
His hand reaches out to her, and she wraps her fingers tight around his and let’s him pull her up beside him.
Eight months later: That fire leaped out his eyes and set the world ablaze, and she curls around the knife in her chest and thinks, Yes.
August 1, 2014 — 2:01 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
Three crows in my neighborhood spend every day together, cawing and begging for scraps. In the middle of the street, two curse the passing cars from the safety of nearby branches. The third waddles away from the smashed pastry in the middle of the street, unimpressed, cocking its head and looking each driver in the eye.
August 1, 2014 — 2:42 AM
Andrew Hilmer says:
Okay. This was a copy-paste fubar. Sigh.
August 1, 2014 — 2:51 PM
litbandit says:
He played okay, not good, but okay that night.
Then the dust settled at the crossroads and the stranger handed his guitar back.
Now he plays with the ferocity of a tiger, cowering at even the slightest bark.
August 1, 2014 — 7:47 AM
Hannah says:
Crossroads deal with the devil AND Robert Johnson–love this.
August 1, 2014 — 11:33 AM
litbandit says:
Thanks a lot, Hannah! One of my favourite story tropes and musical genres. Couldn’t resist.
August 1, 2014 — 12:07 PM
Hannah says:
You’re welcome! I watch Supernatural and the crossroads interactions were always some of my favorites. It’s such a cool idea. I wrote a longer fiction piece about Baron Samedi who is a Loa in Haitian voodoo and has some connections to crossroads and it was a lot of fun. That song is just marvelous, too.
August 1, 2014 — 12:15 PM
litbandit says:
I’m a fan of the guede family of loa’s. they are definitely fun to write about!
August 1, 2014 — 12:19 PM
Hannah says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 12:02 PM
Daisy says:
The girl appeared no older than five in the photos that adorned the walls. As the woman looked away from the polished glass of the frames, the clock gave twelve dull bongs. Gripping the cold neck of the bottle, she brought it back to her lips, whispering ‘Happy birthday.’
August 1, 2014 — 8:34 AM
mysweetlord says:
+1
August 2, 2014 — 7:58 AM
Flixnut says:
Three Sentence Story
Sarah fought for Earth’s freedom with strength and valor. Many lives were lost, millions of miles away. But to return home, to the death of love, was too much for her.
August 1, 2014 — 9:07 AM
Martin Wells says:
+1
August 1, 2014 — 1:03 PM
Flixnut says:
Thank you!
August 1, 2014 — 3:13 PM