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Writing Exercise: 50-Word Prompts 2023

December 26, 2023August 16, 2026 Erin Penn

WRITING EXERCISE

Time for the December 50-word prompts writing exercise.

Quick reminder of the rules: Write a flash for each picture. Aim for 50 words, give or take five extra words. Don’t read my attempts until after you do your own. Writing them directly in the comment section below will help you focus on the flash aspect – just getting words out.

VISUAL PROMPTS FOR 50-WORD FLASHES

(Light in winter trees & Couple photos are from freedigital photos . net)

(African girl with Teddy – ID 9775075 © Lucian Coman Dreamstime.com (license paid for))

My Attempts

First Light: It was too early for dawn, the light too bright, coming from the wrong direction. The trees huddled under the snow blanketing their boughs. What was happening sent a chill down to their roots. Should I leave my shelter to find out what the light was or run? (48 words, first published 12/26/2023)

May I have your attention: Grabbing his tie, she pulled him closer and their lips met, touched for the first time. He gasped in surprise and she took advantage of his open lips, jumping for the taste she always wanted. Coffee and cream. Sugar and hazelnut. Around them, people clapped. Maybe she shouldn’t have done this by the office coffee pot but the boy just wasn’t getting any of her hints. (words 66, first published 12/26/2023)

Orders: Please don’t hurt me, her eyes begged, digging a hole straight to my heart. Her parents had done right by the little one – freshly washed, her hair neatly braided, her clothes in good repair. Her bear nearly broke me. Why was she allowed to bring her toy? Fucking orders. (words 50, first published 12/26/2023)

Series: 50-word Prompts

Flash: When the Stars Align

December 24, 2023April 26, 2024 Erin Penn

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

“Second moon rising.” Leo glances over at me.

“I see it,” I grunt as I continue to mess with the wires.

“You sure about this?” Taurus asks from where he leans against a bula-bula tree.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I mutter. “When do you ever leave the house if you aren’t sure about it?”

He laughs. “But are you sure, Virga?”

“By the stars, of course I am sure.” I press the last of the wires into place then snap the soldering stick and shake it to heat the tip.

“Our little Virga is always sure, you know that Taurus.”

“So help me, I will solder you mouth shut Leo if you call me little one more time.”

“Little girl, little life, little soft lips.”

“Little patience.” The tip of the stick turns blue, so I tap my glasses, activating the safety feature and they mold to my face.

“Big boobs.” I see Taurus gesture like I have mammillarias the size of a cow, big enough to weigh down his huge hands. Leo makes some gesture back that sets Taurus laughing again.

Gemini arrives with Sagittarius and the first question out of her mouth is, “Did I miss anything?” Her fear of missing out was high.

“Is the city still lit?” Leo waves at the sprawling slums rising into rundown tenant shacks to somewhat sturdy worker class apartments, and finally the soaring sparkling towers of the ultrarich, the few middle-class dwellings hidden under their glare.

“Of course it is,” Gemini walks over to beside Leo at the edge of the cliff, while Sagittarius sits down beside me. “Damn, this is beautiful. Are we sure about this?”

“What is it with everyone?” I ask, setting the spent stick on the purple grass. “Look, if you want to back out now, this is the last moment.” We hadn’t made the kick-off box until now to prevent the damn Pisces psychics from seeing anything. With the soldering done, all the links were clicking in place.

Sagittarius places his hand behind my neck and massages my tight muscles. “We aren’t backing out now. We’ve tried everything else. ‘A riot is the language of the unheard.’ – Martin Luther King Jr.”

“It’s not exactly a riot, Sag.” Taurus argued. “We are turning off the electric to four million people.”

“’A populous never rebels from passion for attack, but from impatience of suffering.’ – Edmund Burke.” Our resident archer moves behind my back and starts massaging me in earnest. “We are only applying a little suffering. It’s fall – not too cold, not too hot. But maybe we will wake the sheep.”

“Careful,” I say, “I hurt my left shoulder earlier, don’t rub too hard.”

“Well, I’m tired of waiting. You all may be of two minds about this,” Leo strides over to where I sat. “Give it here and I will set it off.”

I happily pass him up the activator, taking a little enjoyment at watching the pompous ass juggle the hot object. After pulling his cardigan over his hand, he turns it over in his hand and nods. Returning to his previous position overlooking Skyfall, he announces, “Now they must hear us.” He snaps the switches close, completing the circuit.

After a few moments, with the skyline lights remaining unchanged, he turns the switches to their previous positions carefully then snaps the again. The rapidly switches them back and forth between what he obviously thought were the on and off positions. “Nothing’s happening!” he yells before yeeting the device over the cliff.

I’m not even mad.

I lean against Sagittarius and just say, “Wait for it.”

“Everything is in the right place.” Taurus reaffirms behind us.

Seconds later, a quarter of the Needle, the skyscraper belonging to the Greens, the FirstLanders family owning the terraforming machines who are inching the creation of agricultural land to maximize food prices without anyone *important* starving, flicks off. The west side slums follow. The Crown Cathedrals, owned by the Christians – purveyors of news, entertaining, and publishing, darken one after the other with their surrounding tenant slums. Only the Avery Tower is left of the ones we could figure out on the electric grid how to access.

The lights turn off from the bottom to the top, one floor at a time, with matching rays shooting out of blackness running through the poor sections as though reaching for the full moon opposite us. There will be no banking tomorrow until that gets sorted out. To the East side, the Vella Conglomerate remain shining. Of course the family running the government and governmental services made sure their stations were updated as soon as the rebels in Home-at-Last showed the weakness in the utility structure, but they didn’t bother spending the money they collected in taxes to protect anyone else.

That is going to come back to bite them if the Christian press agents interpret the clues we left for them to find correctly. Some FirstLander infighting will only help the cause.

“We did it.” Leo says.

“Of course we did.” I snap. “Have a little faith.”

Sagittarius stands, “Now we go. I shall miss you. ‘We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.’ – Tim McGraw.” He holds out a hand to help me up, which I need after being huddled over the switch since the first moonrise.

After shaking out my legs, I say. “I shall miss you too Sag, Bull.” I nod to each. “Gem.” I grab her in a huge hug.

“Virga.” She holds me tight in return.

“Hey, what about me?” Leo opens his arms wide.

I walk away to where I left my backpack giving him the finger behind me.

After the last year, I’m ready to go back to being just Elisa, electrical student at the Vella Training Grounds where Sagittarius had recruited me for his rebellion cell.

Being Elisa again would be nice. At least until those in power figure it out. Best guess, I might live to see tomorrow’s nightfall. If they find Leo first, we won’t last until dawn.

Behind me, I hear motors start for the richer members of our group. Taurus will be going back to wherever he came from on foot. Like me, he was recruited for just this mission. I slide on my backpack and turn around to stare at the half-lit cityscape. Fires brightened some of the darker areas as the riots start.

I did that. Me and Taurus really. We had the know-how they needed.

Now we are on our own again and their super-secret cell will hide among the rich and wealthy.

I shall miss Virga and all the excitement she brought to my life for the last year.

But I shall miss Elisa more. The me from birth.

I drop my IDs on the ground with the two of the trackers the elite put into workers, one for me and one for Taurus. He dug out mine and I dug out his before the bigwigs got here.

“This is the last moment.” I tell myself, looking at the pile. Am I really going to do this?

I pour acid over the batch. “Rest in peace Elisa.” I drop the plastic container that held the acid onto the pile then pull out my two backup solder sticks. Cracking them, I drop them onto the flammable acid and walk away quickly from the cliff and from my life in Skyfall.

(words 1,246; first published 12/24/2023)

When the Stars Align series

When the Stars Align (12/24/2023)
Against the Sky (1/7/2024)

Flash: Oghan’s Return

December 17, 2023April 26, 2024 Erin Penn

Image by Lance Reis on Unsplash

The woman approached Mave confidently, a raptor on her glove. Around the high-flyer gathered many of the younger members of the aerie, tired one and all from a day on the ground in the fields; the group rested, taking advantage of the large boulders removed from the farming soil and laid alongside the workable plots. Several peach trees among the rocks provided covering from Brita for those who wanted shade after a long day of summer work, while the rest soaked up her warm rays laying upon the boulders.

Though outnumbered, the pale female, unmarked on chest by hint of feathers which decorated the raptor shifters’ arms and bodies, carried no scent of fear.

She carried barely any scent at all, only of the sea after a storm. Salt, water, ozone, and death recently raised from the depths. “Oghan said you were the one to talk to.”

“Oghan?” Mave sat forward from where she had been leaning against her nestmate, Bryce, to study the raptor. “You came back.” The stone wizard had disappeared at the Aviary Gathering, a loss to their clan. His return was most welcome but would no doubt come with costs. Magic never flew a straight path.

Bryce spread his hand against Mave’s back, like a wing of support.

“What do you need to discuss, traveler?”

“I would like to join the aerie.”

(words 226; first published 12/17/2023 – inspired by a Facebook visual prompt for a writer’s group; aim is about 50 words, but I decided to link it to the Raptor by the Sea series.)

Raptors by the Sea Series

Raptors by the Sea (9/10/2023)
Outside the Aerie (11/19/2023)
Oghan’s Return (12/17/2023)

Flash: What are they really trying to sell?

December 10, 2023November 28, 2023 Erin Penn

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

“Telly off.”

“Hey, I was watching that.” Karter complained to his mother.

She picked up two dishes, then stacked a third between them, showing off her skills as a human waitress. “And I told you, no screen time until your studies are done for the day.”

“I got it done, mostly. And what I didn’t finish isn’t important.” He flopped over on the floor to look up at her. “Consumer awareness is complete yesteryear.”

His mom’s eyes twitched, and her lips formed a flat line. “Fine, then tell me why that commercial, selling a car I couldn’t afford on two years hustling tables, and certainly not something you can buy at your age, showed up in your feed?”

“Um … because it is cool?” Sitting up, the fourteen-year-old looked around the room for clues. “Maybe related to a new three-dee-show?”

“That is a start. The HyundaiHondaHover is used a lot in Fifteen Rings over Cylan, but reverse the logic.” The adult lifted the plates. “I’m drop these into the cube and set dinner heating, but I expect a better answer by the time I get back or you will be on screen blackout tomorrow.”

“Aw mom, no, tomorrow is MechBattle.”

“Karter, this is important to me, and I believe it will be important to you in the future. Use that implant and gray matter to come up with something.” She stopped in the threshold and looked back. “I’m not being unreasonable. I know that is what you are thinking. But remember, I’m your mom. I’m always on your side even when it doesn’t feel like it. The sellers, with those commercials and ads, are not. Know who is your opposition and who is your support system.”

He rolled his eyes but activated the EdYou screen.

***

Karter made his way to the kitchen after the dinner ding came through. He discovered the reason why his mom hadn’t came back immediately was she had been folding laundry. Tucking his head down, he sat at the table. That folding and delivery chore should have been completed by him two days ago.

The near-beef stew with a side of real bread from her work smelled delicious. Automatically he reached for her hand across the small table.

“We remember to be grateful in the small things for they build the best parts of our lives. We remember to be grateful in the small acts for they build the best friendships of our lives. We remember to be grateful for the small ideas for they build the best principles of our lives. Confirm.”

“Confirm.” Karter solemnly closed the grace. Dropping his mom’s hand, he dug into his fourth calorie allotment of the day.

She let him eat about half before asking, “Do you have the report ready?”

“Hm, maybe. Obviously if it is an officially registered commercial, they are either advertising, selling a product or service, or marketing, selling a concept or reputation. Since we aren’t in the position to buy, under proper targeting for advertising, I shouldn’t have seen the flying car commercial.” He tore two more pieces of bread off his slice and dropped them into the soup and stirred it. “So the question is, what are they marketing?”

“And you had speculated maybe a movie or telly show.”

“But that isn’t right, because product placement would be doing the reverse, unless it is selling nostalgia like using old cars in shows.” He scrunched his nose. “Since the HyundaiHondaHover is a newer line, only two years old according to the implant download, and they are pushing next month’s model, the new show is selling the car, not the car selling the show. Like you said, reverse the logic.”

“You do listen to me sometimes. Good to know.” His mom smirk turned into a smile. “I appreciate your thinking so far. But you haven’t answered why are they dropping a commercial for a private car into the feed of a family only able to afford public transportation, and not even the special services like individual taxi and flame jumps, only the mass transport.”

“Well, if it isn’t advertising, it has to be marketing.” Karter used the last of his bread to empty the bowl, then jammed it in his mouth before he continued talking. “I don’t think it is the concept. We are aware of the flying cars using the flame streams to triple their speed. I’m sure they want to drop that in every now and again, so if we ever get insta-rich, we want to pick up one immediately. But the HyundaiHondaHover ads came on three times today, and there were another couple for the MercedesCadallicWind. I could see one or two every few days, but five in one day is a lot to aim at someone my age.”

“Just how long were you on screen today?”

“Um, do you want me to answer that or finish the report?” Karter asked hopefully.

His mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “Finish the report.”

“Since it isn’t a concept, it has to be reputation.” He pushed his bowl to the center of the table frowning. “They want us to WANT flying cars even when we can’t afford them. They want us to desire things beyond our ability, to make them more valuable to people who can afford them because other people can’t. Make some people feel better when other people are hungering after the idea they have access to, the small ideas. But this twists the small ideas, corrupting people’s principles with envy, instead of the pillars of support, growth, and beauty.” Karter looked at his mom. “That is some premium grade therapy-need.”

“Yes, and they also take it further.” His mother stacked her bowl into his and stood up from the table, moving the dishes over to the washer cube for loading. “They will sell you models of the cars, clothing with the design, and posters for the walls, all to keep you aware of what you want but can’t have, and have you pay for the privilege because they own the idea and image. But, you know, Consumer Awareness is a boring, unimportant subject. It’s okay to blow it off and support the mega-corps products.”

“Mom, I haven’t been dipping on the psychology classes; reverse-pysch is complete yesteryear.”

“I accept correction.” Having finished loading and activating the washing cube, his mom leaned against the counter. “But I do have one last inquiry before you put away the laundry.”

Karter rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Are you going to continue to dip on the Consumer Awareness?”

“Do you think that they will continue to hit me up to ride the envy flame?”

“They hit you five times today.” She shook her head in annoyance. “No screen time tomorrow until ALL your studies are done. But, let me tell you as someone with a few more years living the marketing stream, they hope you don’t bother with your studies, and if you do, they hope that they can wear you down with a constant stream. They want you to want a flying car really badly. And other stuff like it.”

Karter glanced around their small eating room before he said, “I would like a flying car.”

“So would I.”

(words 1,206; first published 12/10/2023)

Flash: Honey’s Adoption

November 12, 2023November 20, 2023 Erin Penn

Image by Nika Benedictova on Unsplash

“Aw, isn’t she the cutest.” I hunch down beside the black cat. “Look someone has put her in a costume.”

“Jessie, it has orange eyes.”

“I know.” I sit beside the cat, not directly in front of it so she (or he, I wouldn’t want to misgender the black beauty, but in my mind all cats are girls like my calico pair at home) could decide if we might be friends. “And believe me, if it’s owner is around we would be having a talk. But I don’t think they are contacts, they look natural.”

“Its nails are blood colored.”

“They did not!”

The cat hissed at my sudden outburst.

“So sorry honey,” I say looking down at the cat, “but did your owners paint your needles of death? If they did, that is so rude. Could I see, please?” I hold out my hand carefully, waiting.

Turning towards me, the cat holds out a paw, her claws extended.

They are indeed red, but it appears the keratin is naturally that color. I take the foot and press the toe beans to extend the claws further. “All good.” I whisper, assuring her and myself, letting go of her foot. “Gill, they are fine, she just has some unusual coloring.” The cat stands up and saunters over to me, standing on her back legs and raising her small body so her front claws prick at my jeans.

I hold my breath, and Gill, bless his overcautious body, takes a step back. She pushes off and lands in my lap, the wings opening and closing with the movement. Turning around in a circle in my crossed legs, she presents me with her long black tail with a swish across my face, an extra smack against my nose, and an unmistakable view confirming she is female, before settling down. I start scritching her behind the neck and she arches into it.

“Where…” Gill coughs. “How are those wings attached?”

I dig into the fur, looking for strings or some sort of wire frame, maybe a leash support. The wings look leather with very short fur over them, almost a felt, thick along the lead edges mimicking bones; whoever made the costume did an amazing job. “Not sure,” I answer, “I can’t find anything.” I frown. “Not even a collar.” I run a hand down the body. “Oh, honey, do you need a place to live?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“No?” I raise my eyebrow at my live-in fiancée.

“No, we do not need another cat.”

“We can’t take her to a shelter, not this close to Halloween. All kinds of kooks grab up black cats this time of year.”

“No. She is a demon cat, look at her.”

“Darling, they are all demon cats.” I lean closer as I continue to pet her. “Isn’t that right honey? Do you have a name? Would you mind if I call you Honey for those beautiful eyes of yours until we figure it out?”

Gill sits on a discarded can in the alleyway. “No, please do not name the demon cat.” He covered his face with his hands. “We will have to take it home, then keep it separated from the others for two weeks, then all the new vet bills, explaining why the fuck Honey has wings.”

“So you think Honey is a good name?” I ask happily. Honey’s body is doing a deep, nearly silent purr against my hand. “She likes it.”

“Right,” Gill sits up straight. “Honey,” he says to the cat and she lifts her head to look at him. “Oh, this is going to be a fucking disaster,” he mutters, before continuing in his I’m-in-control voice I enjoy so much in the bedroom. “Do you want to be adopted?” he pauses and her head tilts sideways. “By us. We have two cats, normal ones … well they are both whack jobs and Patches ain’t too smart.”

“An understatement,” I whisper to Honey, “but I love her for it.”

“Queen Bee is gonna to do the territory thing. But she is lazy about it and will wear down. But,” Gill held up a finger and I felt Honey tense under my hands, “Jessie and I are engaged. We plan on getting married next June after I finish college and we will be having two children.”

“Four,” I whisper really soft to the potential adoptee, Gill was an only child didn’t know just how big his heart could grow. I felt Honey relax back into the pets. A full house doesn’t seem to be a problem.

“You must treat these kids well. No harm to our children, to our present fur babies, any future fur babies because Jessie collects them as you can see, or to us.” Gill dropped his hand to his knee. “If you came to live with us, you are welcome, and we will protect you as one of our own, but we expect the same courtesy.”

Honey looks back and forth between us, takes a gentle swipe at my hand, and then leaps out of my lap. Those gorgeous wings do a quick spread for the perfect landing then pulling against her body. Whoever made them did an incredible job. She walks away, her tail swishing.

“Oh, oh well,” I say, disappointed. “I guess, as clean and neat as she is, she already has an owner.”

At the entry of the alleyway she meows in annoyance, turning her orange eyes at us. The sunlight streaming in from the street made them look like they were glowing.

“Oh, wait, she wants us to follow!” I jump up and go to where Honey is sitting, waiting for us, her wings completely blending into her fur.

Gill reluctantly follows. “No, I think she is waiting for us. God help us.”

Honey hisses at Gill.

“Sorry, no G word. Got it.” He shrugs. “We don’t use it much.” My patient, forgiving boyfriend pauses in the twilight between the noon sun on the street and the midnight dark of the alleyway. “Blessed be better?”

Honey stands, flicking her tail high before walking over and rubbing his legs.

(words 1022; first published 11/20/2023)