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Writing Exercise: 50-Word Prompts 2018

December 25, 2018August 16, 2026 Erin Penn

WRITING EXERCISE

I participated in a 50-word prompt day in 2013. A visual and a text prompt alternated every hour for twelve hours. Creatively, it was great fun. I published the results in 2017 on 2/19/17, 2/26/17, 3/19/17, and 3/26/17.

For Christmas, I thought I would keep the Writing Exercise short and sweet. Write two 50-word flashes – aim for 50 words, give or take five extra words. Write them directly in comments below so you don’t think about them too much.

TEXT PROMPT FOR 50-WORD FLASH: Performance

VISUAL PROMPT FOR 50-WORD FLASH

Photo by Charles Gaudreault on Unsplash

My attempts

TEXT PROMPT: Performance

Responding to the standing ovation, I look left down the line of actors as we stand linked hand-and-hand. We bow in unison, and the clapping grows louder. The marquee steps in front, and the house shakes, a physical force as the shouts hit us. Next time, I’ll be center stage. (first published 3/21/2022; words 50)

VISUAL PROMPT

The rest of the volunteers stopped arguing about the treatment when Devil Dog showed his abs. Four days ago Dutch had been one of them, now he stood alongside their “advisors”. While the others focused on his abs, Elisa studied the scars barely visible along the edges of the clothing. (first published 3/21/2022; words 50)

Series: 50-word Prompts

Flash: Medical Treatment

December 23, 2018February 3, 2019 Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

“Hey, come here. I’ve something to tell you. A secret. ” The male half-grin was perfect.

Beatrix looked over at the others in the stark white room. She couldn’t deny the appeal of what they were showing her. She started to move around the hardened body. Every muscle was perfect, textbook though her understanding was. The black shirt clung to his exceptionally broad shoulders, swept over muscular breasts, and teased her with hints of a defined abdomen.

His electric blue eyes caught hers. “Come closer! I won’t bite.”

His baritone chuckle sent sexual tingles through her. She never experienced anything similar in her life.

“Unless you like it.” He offered, the intense eyes smoldering.

“Virginia Woolfe’s Landing.” Beatrix cursed. Her hands gripped into fists and pressed tightly against her hospital overalls.

One of the other women, all three wearing medical staff mesh suits, pressed a few icons on a console. The male froze midstep, shoulders tilted towards the patient, a half-smile remaining in place. Beatrix relaxed as life left the robot’s eyes.

“I am so sorry to upset you.” Dr. Kahlo, Beatrix’s psychologist, soothed. The nurse, who was really a bodyguard for the doctor against her psych ward patients, and an intern followed the doctor from the opposite side of the room where they had been observing her reactions to the robot. Beatrix’s long-time mental illness was so unique, dozens of students fought for time to study her. She was thankful the normal pod had been locked out for the experiment.

“No, no. It’s okay doc.” Beatrix opened her hands and smoothed her sweaty palms against the fabric covering her. “You told me exactly how it would act. I just didn’t expect how I would RE-act.”

The doctor touched her bracelet highlighting the importance of this part of the recording. “And did we react strongly?”

“I pretty sure you didn’t react at all.” Beatrix hated the constant plural the brain doctors used. They did not have her problem. “But I about creamed myself when it chuckled.”

The intern looked away in disgust at her crudity.

Because she could – Dr. Kahlo wanted absolute honesty in order to provide better treatment – and the intern annoyed her earlier today with a barrage of questions, Beatrix continued, “That deep voice made me want to drop to my knees and slurp his stick.”

“The appropriate term is penis.” Dr. Kahlo corrected, unfazed. “Should you want something less formal, historical documents indicate terms such as prick, cock, and dick were used.”

Chastised, Beatrix felt like an uneducated hick from a canyon clan. A feeling she was used to having around Dr. Kahlo.

“So do we believe this treatment might be beneficial?”

“Just so we are riding parallel on this.” Beatrix winced as she followed the psychologist speech patterns. “I get to use the medical device under supervision here. If it works, I get to take it home and go back to real life.”

“If the medical device works, we will continue to see each other regularly and continue to search for a real cure.” The doctor frowned. “Remember we are using this as a stop-gap measure only to return to functional integration. We don’t want it to be permanent, any more than we would want to use a cane for the rest of our lives.”

“But if it works, I get to use it until something else is found.”

“Of course, Miss Bentley, since you have not responded to either chemical treatment or biological restructuring, we will suffer through the temporary inconvenience of a medical device.”

Hardly an inconvenience if it worked. She would be able to return to her home. Beatrix already imagined conducting vibalettes and nigaloons again. She knew her mothers and sisters would throw a high-pressure-explosion for her coming home party. She had been in and out of hospital care since they discovered her issue as a teenager.

During her musings about returning to ordinary life, the doctor and her shadows had returned to the console. They reactivated the robot.

The male finished his step and reached for her. Beatrix saw the pity in the intern’s eyes as she lifted her face up eagerly to be kissed. A shudder shook her body as the medical device lightly bit her ear as promised before placing his lips on hers.

The student didn’t understand.

None of them truly did. How could they? She was the only heterosexual woman born in the Amazon colony since landing.

(words 741 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/12/2013 for the 7/22/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; Republished in new blog format on 12/23/18)

Flash: Undercover

December 9, 2018April 6, 2022 Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

“God, I hate undercover.” Malcolm started peeling out of his business jacket. “I swear if one more woman pinched me, I was going to slug someone, most likely the good-for-nothing bouncer.”

Sally stepped out of the kitchen to watch her man get comfortable. His sculptured chest was from weights and gym workouts, but for honest reasons instead of just to look good. He had to be ready to run a mile or swing a ram after pushing a few hours of paperwork at the station. The upside of his using a gym to make his muscles instead of hard labor was his hands stayed soft and subtle to stroke her just right. Her lower regions loosened, remembering how he had stroked her last night.

“Your own fault for speaking the language,” Sally pointed out. “You blend better than anyone else on the force.”

Malcolm unbuckled the S&M harness he was wearing under his street clothes and put it beside his unloaded piece in the small safe in the front closet. He rubbed his regulation weapon a moment, partly in longing, partly for luck. The present assignment didn’t provide a place to hide the gun. He had to depend on his backup across the street hoping they were listening in on the wire sewn inside the harness if some shit went down.

Crossing the room to kiss his wife, Malcolm admitted. “Cost of a misspent youth.” He tucked a curl behind her ear while they held each other in a light embrace. “But eventually I will be old and fat and they won’t send me on these trips.”

“Somehow I am not seeing the fat, my love. Instead I see distinguished, which means you will still pull undercover until you retire.” She teased before stepping back into the kitchen area.

“Don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes before following her. The table was already set. Sally pulled the last simmering pot from the stove. “Though I admit this gig is better than most. I get to come home every night to your cooking.”

Sally smiled, ducking her head to hide the blush. The look in his eye said he was glad to come home for more than just the food.

“So how was your day at the daycare center?” Malcolm asked changing the topic away from his work before they hit stuff he wasn’t supposed to talk about. Occasionally they did anyway. She was a better sounding board than the police psychiatrist, and sometimes brought things to the table his fellow officers could not see.

After the dinner table was cleared and the dishwasher started, Sally and Malcolm went to the living room bumping hips. The honeymoon was far from over despite the wedding being two year in the rearview mirror. Metal on Malcolm’s hip jingled as they walked.

“Mal, you forgot to put away the handcuffs.”

Pulling his wife past the television towards the bedroom, Malcolm growled, “I didn’t forget.”

(words 490 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 5/30/2013 for the 12/18/11 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished in new blog format 12/9/2018)

Flash: Shhh

November 25, 2018February 3, 2019 Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

The woman beside him was exquisite. Glendur admired her dirty-blonde hair, the light scattering of acne scars on the face, and the perfect three triangles of white skin setting off the mild sunburn from yesterday’s extended beach excursion. Female beauty without artifice. Non-existent among his people, impossibly rare among humans.

Glen had been grooming her all week as she and her college friends discovered the exotic playground called Miami. The youngest and purest of the group, she simply was a morsel he could not ignore. Her friends sported dyed hair of the goldest blonde and truest reds and wore layers of makeup over perfect skin. This little one was the group’s pet. A single unassuming dandelion among hothouse roses. Where the others spent hours shaving, trimming, plucking, and styling hair, she had been curled up with a textbook, prepping for when the holiday ended. The others debated about every article of miniscule clothing worn, she tossed on whatever clothes were on hand to cover her chubby body. The others had three suitcases each, she had three outfits for Spring Break.

He had bought her the bikini yesterday. The pooch overhang displayed, her perfect “mother’s apron,” enticed him all day to kiss her generous belly. He managed to contain the urge until he brought her back to his hotel; even so, he still spent most of the day stroking that generous expanse of skin.

The naiveté clung to her throughout their lovemaking. A magical time including the gift of her virginity. How she came to her senior year in University without discovering her inner passion, left him speechless at the stupidity of mortal males. He would treasure the gift given freely without enchantment, charm, or even mundane alcohol influence. A complete and fully formed Ewer was now permanently available to him in peace and in battle because of her gift. Should human males be so careless with all their women, Gledur could easily refill his Cellar. The initial rush of the Iron World crushed many Ewers, emptying Racks from everyone’s Cellars, before his people learned how to prevent such calamities. Crafting new ones was all but impossible among Iron’s atmosphere of swinging swords and grinding gears.

He needed a way to return the gift. She did it freely so he had no obligation, but even so he felt some. He had spent over five months restoring a slightly cracked Ewer using energy from the Miami’s club scene’s carnal exuberance. To have one never before his, strong and whole, was a gift beyond measure.

Mayhap he could convince her of her true beauty. How long would it take to change the self-image on one female for the better?

More time than he had. She was leaving in the morning.

His fingers danced along the white triangle edge. The red skin sensitive to touch from the burn, the white flesh sensitive to touch naturally.

Her lips parted in a satisfied sigh. He cupped both breasts and pinched the nipples. Her eyes opened in surprise. Smiling assurance at his newly minted non-virgin, Glen brought one hand down to the other white triangle of skin. This one centered with a blonde thatch lighter and truer in color than the hair on her head. He dug into the curls, a nimble fingers parted two folds of skin seeking her most sensitive nub.

The world blinked as she moaned.

Someone had crossed his threshold without permission.

Few had the power to do so without emptying several Ewers, blatantly extinguishing the protections. A whole Rack would be needed to actually destroy them. Only royalty to whom he owed fealty, and those on duty for royalty, had the power to slip through without him opening a way. A royal assassin could qualify, as would his mother. Glendur did not want to meet either.

The woman was writhing on the bed, staring at his face as his finger unconsciously continued the task he had had appointed to it.

His thoughts were darting through his options when his glamour began to slip. Only royalty could do that. They, the most beautiful of all the Fey, forced all others of their Kin and Kind to appear without illusion. Too many magics had hid weapons and poisons in the Misty Past.

His mother then. Or a sibling.

He managed to restore a modicum of his glamour, but the woman had noticed the difference. Even now his ears were more pointed, his eyes were more slanted, his eyes shifting to green. She was panting, short breaths passing over his lips. Fear of and passion for the unknown.

He barely needed to draw from a Ewer to regain his glamour. A sibling it was. One of the jealous ones. They were all jealous. And dangerous. Only one of the twelve had time for his fascination with mortal flesh.

He brought his finger to his lips, licking the moisture from it before pressing to his lips. Further in his suite, someone deliberately dropped something. Whomever was here did not want to barge in, but did want an audience quickly. The woman nodded her understanding, mimicking his actions by bringing a finger to her lips before Glendur rolled off the bed.

Mouthing “stay here” and again pressing the finger to his lips to indicate silence he left the bedroom suite. Closing the door reluctantly behind him, he fully dropped his glamour. His sibling did not need to know how his powers have grown from his Miami experiments. He or she would find out soon enough when he challenged for the throne.

(words 924 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/12/2013 for the 7/1/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished new blog format 11/25/2018)

Flash: Resolution List

November 11, 2018April 6, 2022 Erin Penn

Rating: Mature (language)

Ryan was boxed in figuratively and literally. So much for his New Year’s resolution to stay out of trouble. How many have crashed and burned so far? Let’s see (1) Drink less – didn’t make it past the dawn; (2) Eat healthier – Wendy’s Wieners had some body-licious concession operators – the perfect place to recover from a hangover; (3) Stay out of trouble – getting crossed off now; (4) Make sure to learn names of women slept with – hence the present problem. At least he was keeping number four and five so far.

He eyed the three females at the entrance of the dead-end alley. The blonde was Kelly – at least he thought she was Kelly, maybe it was Karen – nope, pretty positive Kelly. The brunette was Genevera, a co-worker. And the Nubian queen holding his favorite T-shirt was …

Aw, fuck.

So much for resolution number four. Maybe resolution five – save money – will make it through January third.

(words 157 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 5/27/2013 for the 1/1/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; published in new blog format 11/11/2018)