my friend bruce collins recently held a 50 word short story competition which i entered and i have made it to the final five with some really stiff competition – here is the blog and head on over to http://baristabruce.wordpress.com/2010/11/01/five-50-word-finalists to vote for your favourite…

‘Many years ago, there was a 50 word short story challenge somewhere on the interwebs. I fell in love with the concept of telling a story briefly and precisely. Hence, I thought it would be fun to put out such a challenge to all my fellow writers out there to write short stories of exactly 50 words. No more. No less. As with any great story, a good climax and awesome twist make 50 word stories particularly enjoyable.

Thank you to everyone who entered. I recieved a total of 12 entries. The five finalists will follow. Please vote for your favourite(s) by commenting on this post with the number(s) of the story(ies) you think deserve to win. Voting will close on Thursday 4 November 2010.

1. Caged by Jean
Help. Some one’s got me. He took me. Broke me. Nothings left. Tattered. In ruins. Like the clothes that once lay on my back. All that’s left is a piece of who I used to be. They’ll never touch that. Desperate. Alone. Why can’t you care enough to say hello?

2. Romance Resurrection by Shae
A gentle face lost in the crowds. Only the words shaped by his voice, to set him apart. A symbol. His hands always outstretched: giving, healing, helping, holding. Until… A kiss. A questioning. A beating. A cross. A cry. A death. A piercing. A tomb. Now alive.

3. Mr Wrinklybottom by Brett
Mr Wrinklybottom had feared cats his whole life. Incomprehensible paranioa had seized him and inexplicably never let up. Even now, running through the tunnel he glanced backwards to ensure he wasn’t being followed. Suddenly he stood facing a mirror. It was then Mr Wrinklybottom realised that he was a mouse.

4. Untitled by Simon
He woke to pain, upside down, vinyl biting his collar. Crimson water flooded his mangled world. Feeling it’s source, his blood ran cold.His vision swam; the car sank. A time to put things right, to make amends. One last prayer; ‘God, I may have left it a little late…’

5. A Rose by Anne
The crusty unyielding loam beneath my crumpled, dead shriveled exterior oppressed me.

“ Dead-life,” I murmured.

Clutching a desperate urge for survival, I thrust out a tender fragile cry. Water unexpectedly drenched forgotten ground. The urge to live bundled out misshapen. Grace rose. Light shone down. I smiled.’