Fifty — Flash Fiction by Allison Symes

Fifty

by Allison Symes

Wow! Here we are at the fiftieth edition of Mom’s Favorite Reads. Fifty word stories are called dribbles in flash fiction. Fifty words is a short paragraph and that’s it. The theme of fifty crops up often in flash fiction and short stories. There are the classic themes of a character celebrating their fiftieth birthday or anniversary (doesn’t need to be a Golden Wedding though that fits). There is always room for those stories. The trick here though is to bring your unique take to it. What stands out about your character and their fiftieth “event”?

Fifty is often seen as a turning point, so do the same for your character. Is this the time in their life they decide to take off and do something different? Why have they left it until now? Often being free of significant caring responsibilities is a trigger. Equally some become parents at this age, possibly having a second family after a relationship breakdown, (and there are younger grandparents at fifty too) so how does this change their outlook? Also think about how your character views fifty. Do they see this as a cause for celebration or do they lament middle age? Not everyone takes significant birthdays well and there could be stories here. Now for such a special edition of Mom’s, I am setting not one but two challenges. Challenge 1: I’d like you to write a flash piece with the theme of Fifty. Usual 300 words for this.

Challenge 2: I’d like you to write a flash piece to exactly 50 words including the title. Good news - you can pick the theme. Bad news - the word count will be checked by me. I highly recommend checking your word count manually to make sure it is what you think it is. I’ve come across instances where there are discrepancies between what someone thinks they’ve sent and what is sent. For an exact word count requirement, you must be spot on but this exercise is a good one to practice. Why not have a go at both?

Handy Tip For Second Challenge

When I am writing to a set word count which includes the title, I automatically take off five words from the word count allowance and save that for my title. For my second challenge aim to make your story come in at the 45 words mark. Then you have five words for the title. If you don’t need all of those, your spare words can go “back into” your story when you’re editing. I often find my titles come in at the two or three word mark so that means in turn I have two or three extra words I can put into my tale and still meet the exact word count requirement set.

My Challenge One Story - Fifty is the New Forty

‘You’re trying to cheer me up, Stella. Fifty is the new forty - what rubbish! Fifty is fifty as in old.’ ‘People used to not reach this age at all, Rosie. Count your blessings.’ ‘You’ll tell me next I have fifty of those!’ ‘At least I would think. When are you going out again?’ ‘Tomorrow night. We’ll be trying that new restaurant. Heard good things about it.’ ‘Who said they could never imagine dating again after David’s accident?’

‘All right, all right. Do you think David would approve, Stella? He’s only been gone a year and…’ ‘Oh yes. He’d have never wanted you to sit and mope. Your Frank seems nice. It’s good he doesn’t want to rush anything. And the way he broke the news about David to you, he couldn’t have been kinder.’ ‘He’s a widower himself, lost his Rebecca when I lost David, so he knows the score here. I must admit I still don’t understand why David was giving her a lift home. Frank doesn’t understand that either.’ ‘Perhaps some things are not meant to be explained. You and Frank getting together - it could be a new start for you both after such sadness, yes?’ ‘Maybe.’

‘A new start at fifty, Rosie. Not such a bad age, is it?’

My Challenge Two Story - The Best Laid Plan

I wanted to walk ten thousand steps. I trained. My plan went wrong. What do you do when hunger strikes as you pass that gorgeous shop? You sneak off for coffee and chocolate cake as I did. How many steps did I do? I did fifty.

Ends. Allison Symes

Allison Symes, who loves reading and writing quirky fiction, is published by Chapeltown Books, CafeLit, and Bridge House Publishing. Her flash fiction collections, Tripping The Flash Fantastic and From Light to Dark and Back Again are out in Kindle and paperback. She has been a winner of the Waterloo Arts Festival writing competition three years in a row where the brief was to write to a set theme to a 1000 words maximum. Website: https://allisonsymescollectedworks.com/

Fifty

Fifty By Penny Luker

Something had to be done. My daughter had just told me that I‘d achieved nothing in my life. All I’d done was bring up her and her brother. She was going to be a doctor and make a difference in the world. I pointed out that being a stay-at-home mum may have helped her do well at school, but she dismissed it with a shrug. In truth, I hadn’t wanted to stay at home, but Colin had suggested it was for the best. That was before he left me, for ‘an intelligent and exciting’ twentysix-year-old, the day before my forty-ninth birthday. Since then, I’ve managed to get a teaching assistant’s job in a primary school, which I was proud of, but maybe it’s time for a change. I’d never used my English degree, but over the years I’d kept up reading all sorts of literature, so I signed up for a PGCE teacher training course. Then I’d apply for a job teaching a subject I loved. I also sold all those silly gadgets in the garage on eBay, just keeping a few necessities, and with the money I booked myself onto a dancing course. That would get me out of the house and meeting people. What I needed now was a holiday, after all those years of looking after a family and thinking of other people’s needs, so I booked a fortnight in Barcelona. When the children came to celebrate my birthday, they were surprised at all the changes I was making, but they were pleased for me. At the hotel in Barcelona, I met a woman, Maggie, travelling on her own, and we toured the art galleries and museums together. Over paella and too much wine, we made a list of fifty places we are going to visit in the future. There’s no rush. The second part of my life is just beginning.

Waking in the silent darkness, Jack stretched. The reassuring rustle of a Christmas stocking brought weeks of anticipation into imminent reality. A dilemma: turn over and go back to sleep or explore the contents now? Resolved to wait, he slipped out of bed and tugged on his dressing gown before navigating the stairs to the silence below. Strange shapes resolved themselves into pieces of furniture as his eyes adjusted. The whole house seemed to hold its breath; still no sound from upstairs. Tentatively, he crossed the room and felt for a switch. He heard himself gasp as the space came to life in the glow of a hundred fairy lights: the best Christmas tree they’d ever had. Baubles swung, reflecting the beauty in his young eyes; tawdry tinsel became festive lace, and the star atop it all stood sentinel: confidently drawing all-comers into its festive embrace. Jack took it all in; eyes large with wonder and delight. Beneath the tree, coloured presents jostled for his attention, whispering of what was to come. He dared not touch nor break the magic of the moment, yet the temptation to explore the intriguing shapes was strong. He thrust his hands determinedly behind his back. Breathing in the scent of pine and oranges, he allowed his eyes to roam the room, imprinting the scene into his memory for future enjoyment. Paper chains, cards, candles and holly all vied for his attention which, instead, rested on the nativity scene. For fifty years, his mother had placed the figures around the manger where the Christ child lay. This year he was allowed to help. How strange that heaven should invade earth so quietly. Transfixed, he joined the shepherds and wise men in silent thanks. Christmas was almost here.

Ron’s Brilliant Bucket By Joyce Anne Harvey

Pictures had been reminisced over and cake eaten. It was just as he shoved golden balloons into the trunk, Ron made his decision. After some procrastination, Ron found himself at his laptop and finished preparing his spreadsheet. ‘I’m off to the mall,’ said Jean, popping her head round the door. ‘OIivia needs new jeans.’ Ron wasn’t so sure but Jean loved spending time with the grandkids. ‘We’ll go out for dinner?’ he asked, picturing steak. Jean nodded and blew him a kiss. Ron looked at the first box to complete. Go and buy yourself something, he typed thinking of Jean’s

outing. That wasn’t smart enough. He pressed delete and tried again. Go and buy yourself a sweater for winter. But his daughter knitted him one each Thanksgiving. And when it got too cold, they ended up at his nephew’s in Florida. He could write a book. But what about? Ron thought more. He had a ride-on mower. They’d been to Victoria Falls. Taken a helicopter ride over the reefs. Maybe the number would help. What could he buy fifty of? Fishing hooks came to mind. Unlike his father, he’d never enjoyed heaving a carp into a hammock. Fifty beers? But he couldn’t drink with his tablets. He could replenish the storm supplies: buy fifty gallons of water instead. Ron looked outside. The roses he’d bought Jean, especially from England, had begun to bloom. Apricot buds covered the glossy dark leaves. They’d been shipped over from a nursery – just for her. Jean would say he was silly. But maybe not, if… The list grew. Soon the town would be full of color. He’d help at the shelter and run for school board. The fiftieth task being something special, a plaque he’d engraved with the message: ‘Honey, I did this for you’. The repetition of fifty seemed too significant to ignore and I adopted it as my lucky coin. It sat in the bottom of my purse, never to be spent, but there to bring a smile whenever I handed out pocket money to my girls. “Mum, I’m off to Cadets now,” my daughter called through to the kitchen where I was chopping veggies. “I grabbed some change from your purse…see you later.” I heard the rattle of dropped keys, the clatter of things being knocked over in her hasty exit, then I winced as the door slammed loudly. ‘That child’s a walking disaster,’ I chuckled to myself thinking about the wake of destruction she’d no doubt left then her words registered... Change from my purse! I ran to the front room; my purse was open on the table – empty! My lucky fifty pence had gone. I pulled open the door, already knowing she was long gone. I was right, the street was empty. Sadly, I closed the door, and picked up the boots and bags she’d knocked over in her hasty exit. I grabbed the purse to put it away and checked again, hoping to see my lucky fifty pence, but as expected, it wasn’t there.

Lucky Coin By Sylva Fae

It appeared in a handful of change on my fiftieth birthday – a fiftieth anniversary fifty pence piece. ‘It’s only a coin, it doesn’t really matter,’ I told myself sadly as I shuffled back towards the kitchen. ‘If it’s meant to be, it'll find its way back.’ My toe caught something. It skittered across the wooden floor, bounced off the skirting board and glinted in the shadows – my coin! As I put my treasured fifty away, I gave silent thanks for having a clumsy child. It clearly was meant to be my lucky coin.

Fifty Word Challenge

Christmas Special By Maressa Mortimer

Presents piled high, names double checked. Her duty done, she slips out of the room. Did he hear her sigh? It doesn’t matter. Her sigh will be the least of his worries in the morning. Her mind stays with the special Christmas gift, showing that extra, coloured line.

Secret Santa By Sylva Fae

Office bully, Julie, hands out parcels and the unwrapping flurry begins. Colleagues mask their surprise, nobody dares voice the mistakes. My turn. I gush thanks for the expensive hamper, a stark contrast to Julie’s poundshop socks. Her disdainful sneer's a worthy reward for my switching of the labels.

A Mother’s Love By Penny Luker

I keep and treasure photos of you as a baby, growing into adulthood, in the family album. They are my company when you are far away. Memories of holidays and happy times are so precious to me, but will I lose you as my Alzheimer’s disease progresses?

Mrs Simmons’ Request By Joyce Anne Harvey

The jar wasn’t in the jellies or holiday aisle. It didn't sound hard. But with one day to go there was more to do than had been done. Perhaps it wasn’t that? Lucy grabbed a bag from the freezer. And didn’t wait to see her neighbour’s reaction.

The First Christmas By Jenny Sanders

When they said there was no room at the inn, did they realize their mistake? I only suggested the stable out of pity for that poor woman; already in labor and exhausted by travel. There was just something about her… and that baby. I’ll never forget it.