“False World” Story Contest!


I’m hosting a 50-word story contest on my site, for the debut of “False World,” the second book in the Joe Daniel’s trilogy.

Contest starts on November 22, 2009, and ends on December 28, 2009.

How to enter: Email contest@jacketblind.com your name (or your alias), your age (or the age you wish you were), and a 50-word count mystery, thriller, or suspense story. OR you can post it as a comment on this blog. Enter here or there.

Rules: Write a tight 50-word count story around an everyday object in the mystery, thriller, or suspense genre. 50 words, no more, no less. Has to be exactly 50 words. Did I mention the story needs to be 50 words, and only 50 words?

More rules: Entries are unlimited, just like your creativity. Must be 18 years or older. Prizes will be shipped within 6 weeks of contest’s end.

Even more rules: All authors agree to have their stories showcased in a special section on my website UNLESS story is picked up for publication elsewhere. If it is, I’ll celebrate with you.

Judging: Make us go, “Did I lock the door behind me?” Look at the examples at the end to get an idea of what we like.

Prizes: The winner will receive a signed copy of False World and a surprise gift.

Email your entry to contest@jacketblind.com, visit my website (listed at the beginning), OR post in comments here.


Air Freshener

One night, I decided to get on with my life.

I had been sad for decades.

I wanted to be happy again.

A week after my decision, I ran out of air freshener.

My neighbor complained about the stench.

She joined my husband’s cheating corpse.

I need more air freshener.

Garden Hose

Turning on the hose, water hit the flower bed with full force.

Fresh dirt went everywhere.

She plucked a pale stick from the upturned earth.

It was smooth.

It looked odd and disturbing.

This isn’t a stick, she thought a second before

a shovel hit the back of her head.

Published by Second Wind Publishing http://www.secondwindpublishing.com/FalseWorld.html


Filed under books, fiction, writing

22 responses to ““False World” Story Contest!

  1. Here’s a 50 word story written by my husband, Mark Decker, age 55.

    The Going Away Party

    Pastor Mike saw her in the corner, crying. He said, “Don’t worry, your next pastor will be a better preacher and counselor than I’ve been.” She answered, “Yes, everyone else is saying the same thing. But it seems like every new pastor we get is worse than the one before.”

  2. This is also written by my husband, Mark Decker, age 55 years and 5 months.


    He and his grandson had a game – grandson would surprise him, point his finger, calling, “Bang.”

    He’d quick draw his finger, replying, “Bang.”

    He wasn’t expecting his grandson in the basement as he cleaned his pistol.

    “Bang,” his grandson said.

    Without thinking, he pulled the trigger and shot him dead.

  3. Title: Drip.

    It was all about the pipe. I knew it.

    Drip. Son-of-a.. It wouldn’t let me be!

    I was lying there. On my back. One knee up. Not really thinking about how silly I looked. I was pissed. All of the bathroom stacked around my supine body. Tiring arm. Flashlight.


  4. Kimmy Hano

    Kimmy Hano, age 34

    Title: Holidays

    “Don’t you eat all the dressing, moron.”
    My cousin was the moron. Had been for forty-five Thanksgivings.
    He never let up. Always harping on me, since we were kids.
    “Get me a piece of pie, while you’re up, loser.”
    Loser. Here’s your pie. Enjoy the cyanide I dripped on top.

  5. For ten years he read to the hateful, old woman. Until he learned he wasn’t in her will. He came to the last page. “The gun pointed at his heart” he read. “To be continued…” “Read part two,” she rasped. “It hasn’t been written,” he replied. She gasped and died.

    P.S. Um, and I’m definitely not trying to say anything here… 🙂 Sorry, could not resist.

  6. Broken Lights

    I just couldn’t take my husband’s criticism of my decorating skills anymore. I wrapped the cord around his neck, strangled him and watched his face turn red as he gasped for air. At least I finally found a use for that broken set of Christmas lights I never threw away.

  7. I heard it in the night, crawling around in the woods. Shaking I crepted forward scared of what was in the dark with me. The werewolf leapt from his cover of brush without a sound heard. Blood flew through the night air, I gurgled as I realized I am dead.

  8. The lights flickered as the thunder crashed overhead. The clock ticked loudly. The hum of the fan seemed like a warning as I tried to listen for any other sound. Sounds that did not belong. Sounds to let me know where they were. Sounds that meant they had found me.

  9. The door rattled on the hinges as he continued to demand entry. I backed away slowly, tears streaming while I shook my head in denial. The sudden silence made my breathe lodge in my throat. When the voice sounded behind me I remembered the kitchen door was unlocked.
    “Remember me?”

  10. The manic barking of the dogs was unnerving. But when they went silent, it was unbearable. The yelp of pain, and the howl of mourning, raised the hair on the back of my neck. I grabbed a hold of the door jam, stilling my steps to go to their rescue.

  11. “Care to walk with me?”
    The hand offered shook, whether in excitement or fear I didn’t know. But it was the hand that I couldn’t see that worried me. The one that he kept at his side, and slightly behind his thigh. What did he want? What did he hide?

  12. Crammed under the desk I watched as his shoes marked the carpet in my blood. Squish, squash. The slight squelching sounds turned my stomach as I prayed that the blood that surrounded me in my hiding place didn’t leak out. I watched as the puddle turned into a flowing stream.

  13. Some books write themselves backwards. She started writing “At last, I understand,” then turned the page to “Wish I knew…” to “Where am I?” to “What happened?” and wished she knew. Then she died and slumped to the floor, leaving the pen write more with its ink brewed in blood.

  14. “You signed it.”
    “I don’t remember.”
    “But you did.” They slid the needle into her arm.
    Amanda slept while strangers “borrowed” her body; their payments enough to cover her debt and it wasn’t called slavery now; just paid “time-out.”
    When she woke they demanded her death because fingerprints don’t lie.

  15. She found a dead mouse in the vine; tucked it away behind leaves while it decayed. Later there were squirrels and rats. A cat got caught, maybe seeking the mouse, then a dog.

    She lured her husband out saying, “Look,” then tucked him away behind leaves while he too decayed.

  16. nicholandria

    “Please! Don’t make me! I don’t want to! I promise to be a good girl!”

    The paring knifes sharp edge glinted in the light as it was forced downwards, her hand shaking as it was pushed against her will. Tears slipped down her face when she looked at her tormentor.

  17. If wishes were as plentiful as the leaves falling from the trees in autumn, I would have had it all. That vindictive female would never have stolen my man. She would have never been able to turn his head. But I managed to turn both of their heads. 180 degrees!

  18. Pingback: Confessions of a Homophoniac « Second Wind Publishing Blog

  19. I’ve posted the contest stories I’ve received so far. All of these little shorts are so good, I’m glad I’m going to have help judging them!

    Contest ends 12-18. Here’s the link to the posted stories:


  20. Could it really be so simple? To take the anger that built up in my chest and let it out? I looked over his duck taped body to the head in the open microwave. Would he blow up like the mouse had? There is only one way to find out.

  21. Ants are such little hard working creatures. Small. Industrious. And so easy to feed. All they want is to have food to take back to the nest. To feed their queen. All you have to do is add honey to the body and they will eagerly carve out their meal.

  22. I love my freezer. With it I make my weapons. Styrofoam. Water. Razor blades. And a deep freeze. Carve a dagger form into the Styrofoam. Add water, and then just when it starts to freeze place the razor blades a half inch in the water. A blade that melts. Perfect.

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