We’re creeping higher – this week I’m looking for 70-word stories. Last week, I asked you to top the brilliance of the 50-word stories from the week before. You all certainly did your utmost to. Here are the the 60-word stories you’ve been sending in over the past week:
Andrew was inspired to write in straight away and sent in this gem:
We didn’t ask for names or clear faces as we held hands, and walked across the water as the cars rushed past us; we sat down at our table and as the waiter walked past with a dirty plate of brown rice I asked to have it. My dream-lover smiled and joined me in appetite. Batman’s butler watched in disgust.
Geoff Le Pard knows how to write an entertaining story:
‘One hour, one million or one body part.’
‘I can’t raise it that quickly.’
‘Yes you can. Don’t you want your husband back whole?’
‘When you say a ‘body part’ what do you mean? A limb?’
‘Geez. Look put it this way: get me the money or there’ll be no romantic nights for you two.’
‘It’ll take me two hours.’
Jason Moody sent in a trio of delights:
1) “I said no,” yelled Michelle.
“But why not, Mum?” said Max.
Michelle slammed the cereal box on the counter. “I’ve had about enough of your whining.”
Max muttered under his breath. With that, Michelle turned, her face reddening.
“Will you just drop it, Max, please.”
Max huffed. Loud enough that his Mum would hear.
“Why can’t you forgive, Dad?”
2) The two of them sat opposite each other. Neither looked like they would move. Henry wasn’t one for backing down, and Madeline was no shrinking violet.
It seemed like forever as the two of them simply stared straight at each other. Something had to give. This couldn’t go on forever.
Madeline shuffled, then licked her paw. She meowed.
Cats.
3) “When you agreed to my terms, you knew it would come at a price, Justin. Don’t forget that,” said Balthazar.
He enjoyed repeating this. He would do it often. To keep me in line. As much as I hated to admit it, he owned me. I hated that. I hated him.
“No, sir,” I said, my tone resigned.
Keith Channing‘s story was certainly worth the wait. And it’s a true story to boot!:
She spent every day quite alone.
“She will be happier with company,” they said.
She had always been good, never destructive, always clean.
Her campaign had started with a little bit of damage here and there. When that didn’t work, she pulled her ace card, she messed on their best carpet.
That did the trick; she’s on her own again.
Jasdeep Kaur’s is simply brilliant:
Concocted
Thunderstruck, I looked at her horrendous face as she made her way through the dimly lit passage. It was not merely the lour blazing her blued lips, the reddened eye lids, or the blackened teeth, but the mess that had actually unmanned me.
“Gosh,” I screamed at my daughter, “what on the earth made you paint yourself like this, Isla?”
Esther Chilton 
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