The widely popular literary journal Roanoke Review is holding a short-story contest this month! The first place prize is $1,000 and the second place prize is $500 for a story up to 6,000 words which means a 55-Word Story would be eligible! The deadline is November 7, 2009 so please hurry!  Winners will get to see their work in print in the Spring 2010 issue of Roanoke Review.  Entry fee is $15 and can be paid through either PayPal or check.  Good luck!

Welcome everybody!

From the insistence of my good friend Brenda, I decided to hold a workshop in which hubbers can submit some of their works. Back when I was in college, this idea was given to my class as an assignment. Many have struggled with the assignment but the means did have an end and that end was developing a compact, straight-to-the-subject writing style that editors and readers alike will thank you for. I've been told by the best writing professors to NOT WASTE WORDS. The best tasting food has just the right amount of ingredients, so the best stories should also follow the same recipe. Too many words are unnecessary. By the way, I'm not asking for a lot. Most of us write AT LEAST 50 words when posting on Hubpages forums! To enter, you need only do the following:

1. Write a 55-Word Story

That's right. Write a 55-word in story form, no more, no less. I will be checking so no chearting! Please take the time to check for spelling and grammar (do what I say, not as I do!). And just as in any good story, try to create a plot, develop characters and establish a scene. I realize that it's not easy to do, but that's why we're on Hubpages and not Oprah! Write On!

2. Submit Your Story

It's easy. Just e-mail me your story by simply clicking in contact me at the top right hand corner of this page and send your 55-word story as either an attachment or as e-mail. I'll be sure to then post it onto this Hub for others to comment on. Should you have any questions please ask me.

3. Give and You Shall Receive

So long as you follow my instructions, your story will receive comments by myself and others. However, please be advised to use Constructive Criticism. Please don't throw sand at one another's eyes as it's not very nice! In addition, please respect one another and so hopefully, this HUB will be somewhat of a sweet success for us all! Keep on writing everyone! I'm looking forward to all of your stories!

"How was breakfast?"

She smiles in response. "Fantastic." Just like always. David leans forward to kiss her cheek and leaves.

Anna dresses. The hidden scrapbook is in her hands. "Man Killed in Tragic Accident." The page turns. A receipt. "Thank You for choosing Paradise Robotics."

When he returns he doesn't know why she is crying.

She was going to be late, but he insisted.

“I wanna give you this,” he said. “I want us to start a family.”

She pushes his hand back as tears begin to swell.

“You know I can’t….You know we can’t. It won’t work.”

And just like that, she was gone, taking only a small memory.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, letting his head drop into his palms. Cold, she gave no response. He peered discreetly through the cracks between his fingers, hoping she’d relent and look at him. Nothing. Not even now, the last time they would meet like this. Still, he stayed with her until after they unplugged the ventilator.

Parrying the slashing silver arc Albert reversed, burying his blade.

“You’ll have to do better than that, brother.”

Terry clutched the mortal wound, pajama top staining red.

“Okay, Albert gets the top bunk.  God, I hate this machine!” said Dad as he turned it off, the deed erased.

Terry slunk into the bottom bunk, sulking.

"You can afford it," he smiled, handing her an envelope,

"No strings?" she asked.

He kissed her tenderly..."It's just a gift,"

"Will you come again soon"

Oision looked at his watch, he was in a hurry as usual.

"We will always be under the same sky"....

And once more she was left all alone

God is great ,beer is good ,people are crazy! These were lyrics to a song I heard today. A simple melody telling the story of two guys sharing a beer in a bar.Three simple statement we have all heard before, God is great ,beer is good,people are crazy!

Again, he is early. Like yesterday, and the day before that, he has an hour to spare before the train arrives. He looks at the yellowing brochure that says “Edenburgh:The Paradise Destination” and walks away. This time it’s the house, it needs repainting. Probably  white?  Something always comes up.  Always when he’s decided to go.

Everybody called him a dumb kid, even his Mother for god's sakes. He was fed up, so He walked over to his Mother's drawers, he pulled out the old revolver in it. He smiled mischievously to himself; now everybody would know just how much of a genius he really was.

BANG!

"Well, what can I say to them?" Jeda asked Frenrir.

"Say what is on your heart, since that always seemed to work for you when we came out here all those years ago," Frenrir replied.

Jeda nodded and looked at their gravestones, remembering coming out to the graveyard so much after the fatal car accident that took them away from her, yet she had lived.

Sarah couldn't bear the sadness on the deputy's face and sought refuge in the rest room, away from all those sympathetic eyes.

In the stark coolness of that tiny stall, the sweet smell of their morning lovemaking rose on the heat of her urine. And Sarah inhaled deeply all that was left of her Brian."

An old man sits the porch swing and stares at the star light sky. The gentle breeze dances on his ear arousing his senses. The beautiful melody of crickets in the background reminds him of home.  For a moment, he is at peace. Then, reality hits as he walks down the hall to room 209.

He turned and slowly surveyed all within His sight. He knew he was supposed to be certain, yet always there was the lingering doubt.

This time, will things turn out differently? Will His new creation prosper and multiply, remaining pure, avoiding the destruction that had come before?

Screw it, He thought, and smashed it all.

Amai was certain she could hear the blood sliding down the blade of her sword before falling gently drop by drop to the white snow beneath her feet.

The man looked deep into her eyes, gripping his gaping wound, seeking understanding.

"Why?" he asked.

Leaning close, as his death approached, she whispered, "I don't know."

Fires burned nearby, the scent of ash heavy on the air. A lone figure emerged from the blazing bricks and blackened wood beams. White legs hung limply over the crook of his arm, flimsy nightgown playing lazily around her ankles, twisting in the hot breath of the inferno. Tears escaped their singed eyes, falling slowly.

“I don’t know, baby. You know it’s not because of your work, we just haven’t got anything and last month was just awful,” I said interrupting him.

“It’s all right.”

The tears were choking me on the inside. I took the checks from him, but then tears started flooding my eyes. That’s why I left.

Blinding light. Sweat dripping onto granite. He crept toward the sliver of darkness. Six shooters gleamed far below.

Still as the summer air, he waited. Barely out of range.

Skidding fast, the rocks betrayed him. A piercing scream.

A red tailed hawk circled near the narrow opening.

At last, The way out. Obadiah squeezed in.

“You what?” she asked, incredulously.

“I laid an egg on the counter before frying it for breakfast.”

“Shouldn't you call those guys who write about world records?”

Before I could respond, Aunt Ruth dozed off again.

At that moment, my pet chicken Amber hopped in through the window and settled comfortably on Aunt Ruth's head.

“Wait!” She begged him as the car slowly pulled away from the curb. “I forgot to…”

She cursed silently, knowing they were already late and that he would refuse to turn back. “We HAVE to be on time,” he replied as he pressed on the accelerator.

“But I left the water on in the bathroom!”

 The hobo sprinted across the yard, careful not to be seen as he boarded the boxcar. Once again, his escape was almost complete. A sound in the shadows caused him to turn. As the creature lumbered toward him, it took him a moment to recognize his latest victim. The second ghoul was the victim before...

She woke again with numbing regret for waking; sadness that the dream had not been true. Mark was alive. There he was, drooling on his pillow.

Her mistake, her idiocy, for marrying him were as alive as he.

There are three of us in this bed, she thought-- me, Mark, regret. One will die.

“Write it,” she insisted.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “It’s too personal.”

The sun streamed in the window and lit up the paper on the desk. His hand shook. She gave an impatient sigh and tapped her foot. “You have no choice. Sign.”

Tears flowed as he put pen to the paper and signed his name.

The doctor turns his chair around backwards and looks his patient in the eye. "You can look at this as your cup being half full or half empty, just know she is doing the best she can." The patient held his wife's hand and said "till death do us part." "I'll take care of you."

 Not sure what to say, she reaches for the pen. She writes down the simplest gesture and pushes the napkin across the table. He smiles and stretches out for the answer. Never has his heart pounded so quickly. On it, the answer was “yes.” In fifth grade, he got himself a girlfriend the note way.

 The sun was blinding to her eyes,she tried to block it with her hands.The impulse was there but her hands were gone.Panic stung her brain with questions, whats happened to me? Where are they? A dark figure stood over her.The voice, hoarse ,spoke."If I tell you,will you forgive me?"

 Mike stared out over the horizon thinking he may never see her again. He couldn't figure out what made her change her mind all of a sudden.

The sun began to set in pale shades. Then out of the corner of his eye appeared a feminine figure, walking toward him.

 The masked man ran off with the cash from the register. Laura leaned over and picked up the wallet she had seen fall from his pocket when he pulled his gun.

Glimpsing at his ID confirmed her suspicion -- the robber was Ralph, the jerk who had dumped her hours ago! She smiled.

Revenge is sweet.

I look across the table, scream and grab the cell phone. No signal. Tiffany's pleading eyes stare from a bloated face.

"O God, please help me", I beg.

Gently lifting Tiffany's plump body, I stagger to the road and wait. Darkness swirls; and my feet ferry me through endless tunnels.

The dense fog impeded Joe greatly. Bella was trying to flee and stopped briefly to hear his movements. He was closing in fast. She ran through the thicket, looking for safety, barely drawing breath. Joe's long strides gave him momentum. Turning the last corner, Bella dove under the fence rails, to her puppies kennel sanctum.

The light turned on, then off.

He raised his eyes as he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. It was time.

The unintelligible call came from above. He raised his weapon, said a quick prayer, and jumped onto the platform. He was now more ready to face the enemy than ever.

Down the road, at a gas station I see God. With a friendly smile he assures me a safe journey. Thought God helped everyone, didn't know he was working personally with me. Looking across the street now; see a new station.
Satan Express.
Not doing too well, I think God used a smut advertising campaign.

A phone rings while a couple lies in bed.

"Hello?"

"Who was that?" asks the husband after she hangs up.

"No one."  She then turns away with a gleeful smile then drifts away to sleep.

"Wonder who called last night," the husband says as the wife grabs the phone and walks into a different room.

The sign said, “Welcome to Florence, Have a Nice Day.”

“Nice going, hotshot,” muttered Aunt Ruth. “South Carolina?”

The time machine had screwed up.

“Mama Mia,” exclaimed a man, staring at Aunt Ruth. “I must capture this beautiful smile!”

They left together and returned the next morning.

“Mona Ruth,” he sighed.

“Leonardo, farewell,” she smiled.

BudHasherdashery says

WOW, 55 whole words! So generous of you! With all due respect, a jingle is 55 words, but a story in 55 words is more than a stretch. Suppose the choice of only 55 words has something to do with our shrinking economy, deflation on the value of words? My own opinion in about 55 words.

I was waiting at the pier to see the fabulous sunrise from the Far East.

“Where’s the sun?” I asked myself.  It was scheduled to rise an hour ago.

The land remained engulfed by the darkness and confusion rose inside me.  As bizarre as it sounds, the sun had somehow disappeared...

“How can this be?”

It only happens when it rains...Thinking of her.  She looked into my eyes while lying there in my arms mouthing the words I'd so many times before took for granted.  But I couldn't hear her and God knows I tried and God knows I do love her so much everyday...It only happens when it rains

She had that pert, perky, quick-paced style. Her sun streaked hair pulled back in a banana clip ponytail, trailing behind as she made another perfectly timed turn. She worked on instinct; flawlessly, catching each manifest coded-operation without conscious thought. Her concentration was obviously very deep, but it just wasn't on her way to work.

The pungent darkness settled around her. Would they find her? She hugged her knees and shivered. Strange shuffling sounds echoed in the distance. Shadows were fast closing in upon her…Closer and closer…Pressing.  She closed her eyes and tried not to breath. They were coming! Should she run? Then, they were upon her. “Tag!  You’re it!”

“I’m not crazy,” Eloise pleads, as the givers drag her back to her room. After the fourth attempt to escape, she slumps into the red velour davenport, forlorn. “I will find you, Harold,” she weeps, raising a withered hand. But the needle drip drips Lorazepam and as the drug takes hold, her lover is lost.

Rudy’s face knots in concentration, recollecting what he heard leading up to last November. With great certainty he spits, “He’s a dangerous socialist like his buddy Ayers!” Decisively, his ears shut tight to the ramblings of an equally deaf Brian, eager to regurgitate the nonsense of his left-leaning media pundits. Chances are, they’re both wrong.

They stood together, looking out over the vast expanse of emerald lawn.

Where Miles saw a metaphor for the empire he’d built on Wall Street, his trophy wife saw …something quite… different.

“Darling,” she cooed, “I simply cannot abide such inattention. Do be a love, and ask Pablo to come an extra time this week.”

“They’re too short!”

“Are not!”

“Are too. See? My ankles show!”

“That’s the style, stupid. They’re Metal Pushers.”

“Nuhn uh. The tag says “Kha-Priss Pants.”

“Fine. Don’t get them. Dress like a contestant on ‘What Not to Wear.’ See if I care!”

The sisters looked around for a referee, but couldn’t even find a clerk.

Leaning across the table, he plucked a popcorn shrimp off her plate.

“Mmm,” he smirked, chewing as seductively as he could.

She cringed, looking discreetly at her watch. An interminable hour later, she begged

off -- headache. As her taxi screeched away, splashing his face, he was reminded of why it’s called a blind date.

He was beginning to think himself incapable of monogamy. Over the years there’d been a bevy of colorful beauties, each one lovelier than the next: their names exotic; their siren songs irresistible; his wanderlust profound. But all that changed the minute he laid eyes on Lady Lee. He knew he’d finally met his dream boat.

Motionless, he waited high in the treetop hidden from view.  His patience rivaled a mountain.  With his finger ready against the trigger of his rifle, his thoughts consumed him: Peter deserved better, Eddie.  My son’s innocent, you son of a whore!  He fired…CLAP!  Eddie screamed in horrified agony then felt his neck—It was pink paint.

Susan, an expert label scrutinizer, stood thoughtfully perusing the jellies. Low sugar preserves -- or Simply Fruit? Reaching for the “just plain jam” (to complete her comparison), she accidentally jostled an adjacent jar. She watched transfixed as it shattered and spread, making a marmalade mess. The clerk was very sweet about it, seemingly naturally so.

Approaching the garden gates, Alyssa became frightened by the rustling of the leaves directly behind her, who was lurking there? Her heart was racing as she frantically ran for the iron arches only to find that they were locked, trembling with fear she fumbled through her purse trying to find a key to the gate.

Dark night in a bright city, badly lit alley. This was not my usual haunt but I was hungry. I am not a dumpster diver just your average bloodsucker. I knew she came this way to get to her car, alone. She never knew, this was her first time, I was gentle. She is sweet!

Sara looked at her mother and shouted, "But that’s what you want me to be not me!"
Sara's mother looked at her in shock. 

"Don't be silly Sara.  This is what's best for you…Now get ready to go."  Sara's mother walks out of the room. "That's what you think," she says, while watching her leave.

Nadine woke up when sunlight and heat invaded her sleep. She turned on the air conditioner, nothing. She called Freddie, her landlord, to complain. He said he'd bring a fan until George could fix it.

Freddie brought the fan, it worked, until it got hotter. Before it got unbearable, George brought the new air conditioner.

Glancing quickly side to side she runs. Blood pumping, adrenaline rushing, and excited thoughts chasing through her head.

“I can’t miss him again! This is my last chance to find him.”

“Please,” she prays, “Don’t let him get away from me again.”

She runs and vows, this time he is not going to get away.

Walking into her office was beautiful to me.

Ever since I got to know Tanya, I wished to see her workplace and there I was!

But before I could hold this wonderful feeling of happiness,

I grew faint while being consumed by all that smoke in there...

Oh, I’ve always hated the smell of smoke!

Yes, I have been here before…With Ashton, thought Jessi.  He’s one smoky memory I’ve never been without…Her mind was engulfed with similar smoke, even today.  Wondering where this will take her now, she closes her eyes only to reopen them amidst the smoke of a smoldering ashtray at a coffee shop!

Heck!  What a daydream!

I stood on the ladder, about to touch the wires.

"Are you sure the power is off?" I asked

"Yes. I tested it." my grandfather said

BUZZZTTT!

"OWWW! I thought you tested it!"

He looked curiously at his fingers.

"I guess these only work for 220 volts now. It's not so good to get old."

“Don’t touch me!”  The woman said.  Her high piercing screams shattered the quietness of the dim room.  The doctor tried to calm the frantic woman lying on the bed.

“Shh…Shh”, whispered the doctor.  He gently placed his hand on the woman’s upper arm. “Everything is going to be ok. This is a perfectly normal delivery.”

Kelly waited while her mother slowly opened all her presents.  Please let it be a denim dress, she thought.  One last gift to open…And wouldn’t you know it, there it was!  Just as Kelly was walking over to request that she have the dress, her mum gave the dress away to Maya, the maid’s daughter.