Last week it was the turn of the 70-word story so now I’m looking for your 80-word stories. Here are last week’s stunning 70-word entries. Hopefully they’ll inspire you to write that 80-worder:
Keith Channing sent in this entry, which also served as another challenge entry on another website at Keith Creates:
“Please, mister, can you fix me bike?”
“What’s up wi’it?”
“Brakes don’t work.”
The repair man saw that they just needed adjusting, which he did.
“I blame your da,” he said.
“‘ows that?”
“He said once you get started on’t there’ll be no stopping you. He were damn near right, too.”
“How much for fixing it?”
“Nowt, lad.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Unlike a rhino, I don’t charge wi’out good cause.”
Sacha Black makes apologies for going two words over but we’ll forgive her for her brilliant story:
“She can’t be microchipped, Frank. She can’t,” I shrieked tearing at his shirt. Cold sweat trickled down my back, “Don’t let her be born into this, I’m begging you.”
“Lily, honey…” Frank said pushing my soaked fringe out of my face, “if we hide her from the authority we can never stop running. She will never be free.”
“If the authority chip her, you are cursing her to their system. To enslavement.”
Lynn Bissett sent in her story. If I was Sally I’d have stayed on the bus! :
“Hello, Marion, how’s your son?”
“Bad news, I am afraid,” replied Marion. “He’s got to have his leg off, he has an infection in the bone.”
“That’s terrible! How is he going to manage over Christmas?”
“I don’t know” said Marion, “he is being made homeless next week.”
A brief silence followed this revelation, but then Sally had to get off the bus, missing the rest of the conversation.
Jason Moody sent in several stories, all delightfully different. My personal favourite is the third one:
1) David cracked open a can of beer and sipped. Tomorrow was the big day and his best mate, Carl was due over any second.
His bottom had barely touched the sofa when the doorbell chimed.
“Come in, mate, door’s open,” he shouted.
No answer. After a short while, he went to the door and opened it. His body shivered.
“Mr Saunders?” the young officer asked.
David nodded. The officer smiled.
2) “You did what?” Olly shouted.
Magpie shuffled nervously. “I didn’t think it…”
Olly drew his hand over his face.
“No, you didn’t. Christ, Maggie. Have you any idea what you’ve just started?”
Maggie grimaced, close to tears. In an instant, Olly softened. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to shout. Look, we’ll just tell them it was a mistake, o.k.?”
“Mistake eh?” a voice whispered.
3) “New York will burn. Its towers of plenty and streets of dreams will wither and die. Man will truly see how insignificant a creation they are…”
He shifted his stance, arms extended.
“And when all is lost, when your great city lies in ruins, when you plead for death, then, then you will know what it is to feel pain…”
The bathroom door squeaked.
“Dinner, Malcolm,” a woman’s voice whispered.
4) One moment. In the blink of an eye. As quick as a flash. Measure it however you like, but that’s all it takes for everything to change. The Doctor spoke again.
“This type of cancer…”
I stopped listening. I zoned out. It wasn’t necessarily a death sentence, but it felt that way. What would I tell Anabelle? The kids? The dog? Spike would never understand.
So begins my new life.
Great.
Darkly Dreaming Moonsong sent this atmospheric story:
Eyes blue with sky, hands clasped against the wind, pleated skirts already flying. Waiting for that special second.
Steps crunch hurriedly against the dark rooftop. ‘Are you friggin kidding me? You don’t have the balls bitches,’ comes the sniggering denial.
We smile, aware of our undisclosed power. Forever secret. Forever ours. Twin-like dribbles of spittle smudge harlot-red lipstick. A little lick and…
JUMP!
The pavement soars in a violent kiss.
George Le Pard knows how to tell a cracking tale:
The sign said ‘Thermal beach’. The picture showed a smiling family covered in steaming grey sand. Mona and Martin changed under their towels.
‘Lucky aren’t we? Having the place to ourselves.’
Martin was too busy to reply. In seconds he buried himself in the steaming sand. ‘This is awesome.’
Mona joined in, purring.
So entranced were they, they missed the tendrils wrapping around their ankles until it was too late.
Jasdeep Kaur‘s story will make you think, ‘wow’:
Where’s the Hell?
He tottered, his bones conspicuous from his waxen skin, his tongue lying lifeless on his puckered lips, his brooding eyes searching each corner where his feeble feet could take him.
His eyes gleamed as he staggered towards the garbage bin. His frail fingers rummaged the litter for a particle of food. There was none. He collapsed exhausted and hopeless with the requisite to pass one more day of his life.
Esther Chilton 
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