1. primalpeace

    primalpeace New Member

    Jan 12, 2013
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    300 Word Short Story Challange

    Discussion in 'Writing Prompts' started by primalpeace, Feb 8, 2013.

    A lot of people on here do many writing challanges. So why not see how much you can do with only three hundred words or less. This is a example of one that I did today, I am not the best writer just so you know.

    Adrian was beginning to walk around the block. He stepped off the grass to his house, he rarely walked, but he had to burn off the soda he just drank. He loves the look of the block he lived on, it wasn’t too big, but it was by far his favorite view in his city. Adrian looked up in the sky, it seems like there is no view as great as this in the city, it is one of the few places you can see so much sky than everywhere else. He started to walk.
    He felt envy for anyone else to live here, in this city. They don’t get a view like he does. Along the street, from the relentless driving over the years, the road and its gravel was cracked, and in some places even broken.
    While Adrian was walking he saw a blinding light throughout the seemingly endless sky. A second sun appeared behind him it seemed. He started to turn around, he saw a fireball breaking through the atmosphere. He knew what would happen next. He remembered reading about a “Tunguska event” where an asteroid blew up two miles over a forest, flattening millions of acres of trees.
    He felt like the end of the world was real at this moment. He felt a feeling of being selfishness. Even now, he knew that he had the greatest view in the world at his death. The sky erupted in flames, he saw the buildings fall, the sky seemed like it was really on fire. A roar of heat rushed toward him. Fear engulfed him, along with a sense of dignity, not running.
  2. Typo

    Typo New Member

    Feb 8, 2013
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    Central California
    Here's my attempt. A little different from the type of thing I normally write, just an everyday slice of life piece.

    Tom's Jacket

    Maribeth dropped her cigarette and crushed it out with the heel of her boot.

    Leaning against the back wall of the bar, alone in the pressing darkness of the alley, she battled with herself. She wanted to fling open the back door of the bar and march across the dance floor, to confront the fuckers. She also wanted to sink into a ball and have a good cry right there in the alley. She lifted the brown bottle to her lips, taking half the beer in one long, desperate, swig.

    She fumbled the half-empty pack of Camels out of her pocket and flipped back the top so she could pull out another cigarette with her lips, then stopped, staring at the at the white tips. Her parents hated that she was smoking now. She never had, until she met Tom. Here she was pissed off, hurt, confused, and smoking. And Tom was in the bar, practically screwing that slut on the dance floor. Maribeth laughed.

    She pushed off of the wall, finished her beer, flung the bottle and the Camels into the dumpster that stood on the other side of the alley, and walked out of the alley into the night. Fuck Tom, and fuck those cigarettes.

    "I'm not making an ass of myself for you, Tommy boy. Enjoy your slut." She took off his leather jacket and handed it to a bum that was sitting in front of the Chinese restaurant she was passing. "Here, you look cold."

    "Thanks." His voice was as rough as his breath.

    "Don't thank me, thank Tom and Sara. Maybe you can hang out with them, they're both short a friend, now."
  3. Stormcrow

    Stormcrow New Member

    Feb 20, 2013
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    300 word challenge

    This was something I wrote just now for an online 300-word assignment which turned out to be due in 2009. The subject was 'trapped', and were supposed to only write about what we were trapped in and our response. I like taking the obvious, even cliche course and then try to do it really well so its not so bad after all.

    The smell of the wood wakes me. Its fresh wood, rough and in boards, with a smell of resin penetrating my nose. The boards are very close. I instinctively try to move away a little, the smell is nice but strong, but I can't. I can move to my left a bit, and I hear sand grating on wood. My shoes are dragging across more board.
    Wait. I went to sleep with my shoes on? Thats not right. And my jeans. Ill have to clean up before going off. Off where? I want to rub my eyes when I open them but my arm crashes into something. Damnit my eye is hurting. But I can't see a thing. I try to get up and hurt my head. Where did I fall asleep? Why can't I see? The smell of fresh boards and earth is getting clearer. The feeling of sand underneath me is making me even more uncomfortable, I feel dirty. Then a slow beating of my heart starts to make itself heard. My ears are filled with a noise like wind howling. I press against the boards with force and I can't move. I gasp, and feel the dust entering my mouth. I thrust out with my left arm, my right, I try to turn and force my shoulder up with all my force. I'm panting, a strange feeling of sliding back into a nightmare is taking a hold. Like a fool, I shake myself awake. The grip of fear in my breath is what I wake up to.
    I try yelling. The sound of my own voice is deafening. More dust is falling from the boards over my head. Why. Where. Im starting to feel numb, my breathing is getting shallower. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe that comfort, that escape is where I wake up. One more surge of panic. Then I will rest. This is not real. Ill wake up. I'm sure of it.
  4. jdforbes

    jdforbes New Member

    May 27, 2013
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    toe in the water....tear it up if you will.

    My Brother and I got along great.
    Some time ago I found a box. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't ugly but I liked it. My older brother didn't think much of it.
    It made me very happy and for a long time I was completely in its spell.
    After a while I realized that my brother was not happy with me spending so much time with the box. After a while I realized that he had actually screamed and yelled at me for hours about me and the box. After a while I got sick of hearing about it and I just smiled.
    He surprised me and took the box away. I was mad and I yelled at him. He yells back.
    I didn't understand why he didn't get it, but I think he may have been jealous. He was so smart and helped me so much. I didn't understand why he didn't like the box.
    He should like the box. Since there was only happiness in it. When I enter the box it's like nothing else matters. I really like being in the box. I feel so real, I feel so much more, I can be anyone, go anywhere. I am all things, I am all feelings, I am everything, I am happy.
    He was upset.
    I miss him.
    I try to explain that it’s powerful and I can do things. He seems to understand, but he seems tired with me
    I really want to show him. I’m so desperate to share the box. I explaine that I needed the box to do the things. He asks what I can do with the box for the first time.
    I realized I can create a box just for him. He finally smiled.
    My Brother and I git along great.
  5. CyberFD

    CyberFD Member

    Jun 12, 2013
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    Mystical Land of Ohio
    A Drive Through The Woods

    *Let the record show that I am not a perfect writer, especially with only 300 words*

    As Tim and Sarah drove through the forest, it seemed like nothing could ruin the day. Upon turning a sharp corner, Tim saw a girl in a white gown standing in the road. He slammed the brakes hard.

    “Look,” Tim said, pointing at the girl, “I think she’s lost. Should we help her?”

    “Are you sure?” Sarah asked, “we were warned at the station about hitchhikers.”

    Tim disregarded her warning and motioned for the girl to get in their backseat. The girl stumbled her way towards the car. As she got closer, Sarah noticed blood flowing down the child’s dress. Tim did not notice and began to drive.

    “Are you okay, little girl?” Tim asked. “Are you lost?” The girl would not respond; she stared at the front window.

    “Honey,” Sarah pleaded, “there’s something wrong with her. Get her out of the car.”

    Sarah looked tentatively at the girl. The girl looked back, her eyes turning black. As Sarah shrieked, the girl spewed blood from her mouth. Distracted, Tim turned the wheel hard, making the car spin out into the woods.

    With the car totaled, the couple sat in their seats with severe injuries. The girl in the backseat remained unharmed.

    “They’re coming for you, nothing you can do,” She kept repeating in a sing-song voice. As her vision faded, Sarah looked out of the window to see bodies nearing. Fear rose in Sarah as she screamed with the last of her energy.

    “Tim!” Sarah screamed, “Get out of the car!” Tim remained silent, having been knocked out from the crash. The car doors were locked, Sarah could not get out. “TIM!!” She screamed louder, but to no avail. As the shadowy bodies converged on the car, the last thing Sarah heard was the girl in the backseat;

    “They’re coming for you, nothing you can do…”
  6. PlotDeviceManager

    PlotDeviceManager New Member

    Sep 24, 2012
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    Where was I when It happened?

    I hear that question a lot. Mostly around the fire, when I run into other humans. They all have their stories; some tell sad ones. Some tell happy ones. Some make a big joke out of it; that always goes over well. People need to laugh these days. It makes them forget about It. It makes us feel normal, like we're still living in an age of police and hospitals and television; the days of supermarkets and movies, the days of air conditioning and cars.

    And let me tell you now, It didn't happen like we thought it would. It wasn't a day of explosions and bloody death. There was no mass media announcement about the end of the world. It happened slowly. The world didn't die a violent death. It was wounded and just sort of . . . bled out. Slowly, gradually. I think there are even some people, up in the cities where the lights still come on, that tell themselves It never happened at all. That this is no more than a hiccup in history and that soon, all will be right in the world again. Well, as right as it ever was, anyway.

    But, I'm getting off topic. Which, incidentally is what I do when I hear that question. I distract them; waylay the conversation. Generally, I just tell a different story, in my own fashion of side-tracks and wild tangents. Because I don't want to say. It's not that its embarrassing or bad. I just don't care.

    Because I like things the way they are now. But, don't tell anyone I said that. That's the sort of thing that can get someone killed nowadays, what with the lack of law and civilization and all.

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