- Books, Literature, and Writing
Writing Challenge: One-Sentence Stories
Can you tell a story in one sentence?
With just one sentence, can you tell a story? The one-sentence story is a kind of prose poetry, giving enough detail to let the imagination do the rest.
Here are a few.
She said she was on the lawn screaming because the red light was too long and the shelter too far.
When she cleaned the garage she found: a stack of newspapers with two different presidents; 17 dead mice in various states of decomposition; a pair of mildewy ice skates, size 13, filled with lint, dog kibble and bird seed; 2 unweathered bluebird houses; Amorall wipes, unopened; 3 strings of Christmas lights with 8 bulbs missing; a bag of peat with flower bulbs gone soft; 73 empty beer bottles, some with mold; an antique toboggan, no rope; a flat basketball; 4 snow shovels, one that could be used; 2 bags of concrete mix; a broken lawn chair; 7 cinderblocks; a handmade dollhouse that the mice had destroyed; a 10-gallon galvanized trash can, empty; one cross-country ski pole without a basket; a grocery store bag half-filled with the cotton from vitamin bottles; a worn and faded dog collar with a tag that says “Jake”; a sundial with an angel; 27 flower pots, some plastic, some terra cotta, 4 decorative; hardware for a swingset; a box of doorknobs; 3 rolls of orange land surveying tape; a broken rake; an empty gas can; and 2 garage door openers, never installed.
Head pounding and sour taste in her mouth, she stumbled to the door and realized her shirt was inside out.
She tried to save the family with garlic bread, but, to her dismay, it burned.
Alongside the Adirondack trail they found a mound with a crumbling leather lace up boot, part of a porcelain doll head and some wire.
Lacing her K360’s, she thought, if you can’t say it with your feet, it must not be true.
The night the power failed, she photographed Times Square in the dark and thought she’d have a historic photo.
A six-year old who is bound from ribs to toes in plaster can’t run away.
The vultures led her to the bodies of two huge rat snakes which had become snared in plastic fencing from which the unfortunate reptiles could move forward but were kept from moving back by their scaly skin, whereupon sorrow over the useless demise of such large animals compelled her to free the last living snake from its plastic prison laboriously with a pair of nail scissors, all the while feeling like she could tinkle a little.
People told them that two girls could not possibly manage backpacking in the mountains for five days alone, but they knew better and, with the surety of rebellion, filled their ample packs with fresh fruit, potatoes and a canned ham, leaving enough room to strap on their old cotton sleeping bags, sure that they had a better plan having previously passed up the dehydrated peas in the camping store.
When she is stressed, she reads signs many backwards, minding the timil deeps on the way to stunod niknud, where the eeffoc is hot and goes well with a legab.
The little girl reached into her pocket as the basket was passed on Easter Sunday and pulled out a large chocolate egg which she dropped into the pile of dollars, explaining it was for Baby Jesus.