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The various scribblings of Andrew J. Savage Posts

The Break | 50 Word Story

Cassandra spun the dial.
“You done yet?” Joel never believed in her. “Security. Two minutes tops.”
A few more turns…
He sighed. “Time. I’m leaving.”
His footsteps faded just as the safe opened.
Pocketing the gems, she checked her watch. Thirty seconds.
Time enough to escape from security. And Joel.

I had so much fun with the challenge last week that I thought I would taking another crack at @jayna’s awesome fifty word story challenge again. This time the prompt was “break.” Never let anyone tell you that writing or editing a fifty word story should be easy just because it’s short. Ha! Here’s a glimpse of the effort that went into this.


Quick Silver (A short story)

Silver Good-Fisher shot across the tops of the waves.

Land was close and she was fast approaching the place where the breakers pounded themselves into spray and foam. Here at the surface where the Great Deep met the sky, the water was warm and pleasant. Joy and water blended in a symphony of wind and wave. The scents of salt, weed, fish, crab and mollusk–both the living and the dead–were a heady mixture. It was almost enough for her to forget the loss of her pod, of her mother. Her adopted pod members were fun, but they were not yet family.

She leaped and twisted, twirled and dove, but part of her knew that she needed to take care. Past the patch of seagrass and the fast current was the cove.

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Hook, Line and Sinker — Story Openings (Part 1)

The Hook

Distractions. The world is full of them. The modern world even more so. There are a thousand things a potential reader could be doing other than reading your story (or novel, or screenplay, etc.). Even a reader who is willing to cooperate–who has made the commitment to spend time in your story with you–still has thoughts going off in the back of their mind. The siren call of their phone, the expectation that their kids will come home soon, the ever-present question about whether they really did turn off the gas. There are any number of reasons why even the most willing reader will put your story down. Then there are editors.

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The Cabin Boy

“I’ve never met a werewolf before.” Kira tilted her head, watching the boy. The sailors had him locked in the brig, thick wooden bars the only barrier between them. Outside, seagulls shrieked their displeasure at the wind. Waves shredded into frigid, salt-laden spray. The decks were unsafe, frozen and canting, and even below, she could barely take two steps before needing to hold on to something.

The boy hung his head. “They say I killed those people. I…I don’t remember.”

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The Footman and the Pea (a short story)

Evan’s bed shuddered beneath him as though a herd of buffalo were stampeding across the commons. Thunder? For a moment he wondered if he was about to be drenched in a downpour, or trampled under running hooves, but he was no longer living on the common, lying on a pile of heather. He was a footman now.

He grimaced, peering through a half-closed eyelid. It seemed Kelty was up, and from what he could tell, Grizwald’s pallet was empty as well. Calling them buffalo was an insult to the beasts. Had anyone ever been as loud? He closed his eye again, scrunching his face further into the wool-stuffed mattress. Mornings in the castle were not like this. It sounded as though most of the castle was awake, though it was long past time they should be a-bed. To top it off, his head ached from the ale he’d polished off the night before.

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