It’s Thursday and story time. Here’s the latest story challenge:
Can you tell a story in 47 words? You must use the following words somewhere in the story:
- TOFFEE
- RESIGN
- HOUSEPLANT
- FLING
- TABLET
- LADDER
- SLOGAN
Last week’s prompt was to tell a story in 39 words using the following words in it somewhere:
- CHAOS
- KNITTING
- ISLAND
- GRANDAD
- PLASTIC
- CHERRY
Here are your hilarious stories (apologies if yours doesn’t show here. I had an operation on Monday and so scheduled this early. I’ll add it next time):
Grandad’s island holiday started with a plastic cherry floating in his rum and coke. It ended in chaos as he fell and broke his hip. Now in hospital. Gran’s knitting had tripped him up! She always was a menace!
My knitting had become chaos, so I called my grandad, grabbed the cherry pie Mom baked for us and we headed to the island. Once there, we ate our pie with plastic forks. We both thought it was absolutely delicious!
Murray Clarke:
Relaxing in this deckchair under the shade of the cherry tree, Grandpa Muggins took a sip of builder’s tea from his plastic mug, and surveyed the chaos around him on the island. “Better carry on knitting!” he muttered, smiling.
Amid the chaos on the small island of San Rio, Grandad put his knitting down on the white plastic table beside him. He picked up a handful of cherries and ate them, following it with a can of soda.
Chaos reigned in the kitchen, with Nan sitting at the island doing her knitting and getting in everyone’s way, and grandad managing to stab himself trying to push a plastic cocktail stick through a cherry.
What a bloody mess….
Squirreljan:
Grandad was clicking away with cherry coloured wool. Then chaos! He dropped a stitch, lost his temper, and chucked his knitting across the kitchen island, destroying his 98th birthday buffet. I knew we should have given him plastic needles.
As the storm brewed on the island, Grandad’s calm hands moved swiftly, knitting a vibrant red scarf as chaos erupted around him. He paused to pop a juicy cherry from his pocket, savoring the sweetness amidst the turmoil, his plastic glasses gleaming with a quiet satisfaction.
Grandad taught me the art of knitting while he spit cherry pits into a plastic bucket. He believed knit one, pearl one, was the best way to deal with the chaos that surrounds us like water around an island.
Island life was great for grandad. No city chaos, no honking cars, or smelling piled up plastic garbage bags. They had enough of that life. Watching him eating his favorite cherry pie she baked, grandma returned to her knitting.
Wilfred Leahy:
Amid the chaos on the island, Grandad sat knitting with a new plastic thread, looking longingly at the bowl of cherries and thinking why.
***
Esther Chilton 
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