Tuesday 14 August 2012

Fifty Word Stories: Not a Hint of Grey!

And now for something a bit more normal.

With the children in my class we often do this task- write a story in 50 words exactly. It is quite a challenge because every word has to count and pull its weight. And to include a beginning, middle and end too is hard work. We have been successful in the last two years at having several published in a writing competition across London and the South East.

This is my effort. I got a round of applause from the children.

Have a go at writing one yourself


New York. September 11th 2001. We all know what happened on that day. Somewhere in the smouldering ruins of the World Trade Centre were the remains of a leather bound book which contained the secrets to world peace and everlasting harmony. Whatever happened to it? Nobody will ever know now.

Fifty Shades of One: Because Royals do too!

The last in a trilogy of parodies. For the moment!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Princess dialled the well worn number. He answered. His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something like that anyway.

'You rang m'lady!'

She shivered in anticipation then felt the colour in her cheeks rising again. 'One must be the colour of that beastly communist manifesto,' she muttered to herself.

'Yes I did,' she replied. 'I need you to drive the carriage into the palace. come around the back would you.'

His refined but slow witted brain struggled to compute if this was a bizarre request or a cunningly disguised double entendre.

Not for her the rugged good looks and rough hewn bravado of the gardener. He was like a statue, not roughly hewn from rock, but carved tenderly from the finest Italian marble; Michelangelo’s David had nothing on him!

'I will be there presently ma'am'

Within moments, the door echoed to the knock from his silken gloved hands.

'Good evening Mr Bond!'

'Good evening' replied, acting part of another of their adventures.

He stared into her eyes, and she held his anxious, burning gaze for a moment; or maybe  forever, but eventually her attention was drawn to his beautiful mouth.

She kissed him passionately, forcing his lips apart with her tongue, taking no prisoners.

She was all rabbit/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake… and he knew exactly what he was doing.

When it was over, she turned to him and said 'You are without a doubt the most beautiful man on the planet, too beautiful for the common people below, too beautiful for me.’


‘No man is an island'  he mused, ' although I'm going to rule this one one day!'