I share stories from my readers about times they got in trouble
🔥 Results from our 2nd Thematic Prompt Challenge
Hey everyone!
It’s a fact that creativity emerges from constraints. When we're given complete freedom, we struggle. But when we're bound by specific parameters—like crafting a story in exactly 49 words—our creativity finds a way to flourish.
There's something deliciously fulfilling about giving one prompt to multiple writers and seeing their unique individuality expressed, whilst also being bound together in a family of related works. This is our second thematic prompting exercise, following the successful six-word memoir project last month.
Thank you to the thirteen people who submitted stories (plus my own contribution). Each piece reveals how differently we experience and process "getting in trouble," all within the same tight constraint of 49 words.
For those who participated, information about our group social call on April 26th will follow shortly. If you missed this round, I hope you'll join our next monthly creative challenge! If you’re already subscribed, you will hear about it. If you’re not, then subscribe right now so you don’t miss out!
Right. Let’s get into the stories! I’ve put them (as best I could) in age order, so that stories of childhood flow into stories of adulthood, because I thought that might add something extra overall. Enjoy! Looking forward to seeing you all soon.
Diana Demco
"Where you going?" "The kitchen, to have tea." But I sneakily left the apartment to buy the sweets I craved, that no one let me have. I was gone for a few hours, because I met some friends on the way. I was 6. My grandma was not happy.
Me
Walking to school alone since Chris was sick, I panicked during attendance. "Chris is dead," I blurted inexplicably when his name was called. Class upset, teacher suspicious, I maintained the lie until confronted privately. Sent home in disgrace. Next day, Chris just laughed when I confessed.
Ved
I had my friend in a chokehold, when my school principal, Mr. Bloud, walked in. Silence. Mr Bloud stared. I stared. Before he could respond, I let go of my friend. Then, I ran. I was a speedster in black shoes. When I stopped, all the fear caught up.
Brandon Weaver
One sunny 1980s day, my elementary-aged brother and I hopped the school fence and placed nails under car's tires. When they backed up, they'd pop… We got caught. Terrified, we put pillows in our pants, covering our butts to protect us from the spanking. Dad laughed—we were spared punishment.
Simon
My sister and I had an argument about whose insult was worse. She said, "Fuck you!" I said, "Up yours!" Round and round we went, neither of us prepared to concede. How to break the stalemate? I know! Mum can decide. Oops… Not the decision either of us wanted.
CansaFis Foote
Stick spray gold sheen shoulder crested bang and mullet atop oiled curve. Lipstick red inch high heel, thigh swung athletic, dripping light shiny on half inch triangle curls. Mom asked me if I was looking at dad's dirty magazines. Cunningly I snorted "who reads books about mud?"
Anonymous
It was 1971, I was 15 years old. Driving with three friends to get high on the fire roads near our suburban home. We parked and immediately a squad car pulled up behind us. I turned pale and I couldn't breath. What was I going to tell my parents.
Josh Knox
Did you know: if want to smoke hookah in your college apartment, but don't want to trigger your fire alarm, you can unplug your smoke detector? And did you know: smoke detector tampering silently sends alerts to the Resident Advisor Manager? That's how you lose a Resident Advisor job.
Tom White
Nobody told the boy that love could kill. That an outstretched heart could be dangerous. That if you held things too closely, they could suffocate. That love has gravity. That the beloved could be done in by the lover. His teacher was a tiny bird, still in trembling hands.
Darren Farfan
Five pints of Guinness later, the three of us spilled out of the pub and onto a London High Street. Long past closing time, far beyond any semblance of sobriety—the night was still young, and we so dumb. What could possibly go wrong? As it turns out, everything.
Jeremy Mathew
"Only a quick trip," I say, clutching mushrooms. Soon, strobing blue-red flashes light across undulating wood grain. Pulsating bass grows claustrophobic. I step out. Roommate projectile vomits onto a tree with a face of vibrating rainbows. Looking at my phone, I become a Pierrot clown on the world stage.
Anonymous
"You have the right to remain silent." Scattered drystone. A sleepless hangover. Smoke infused, incinerated-sleeping-bag waking dreams. A feeling of self-defecation (or is that real?). A taxi owed, and shame payed. Mum, dad, and a Reckoning in the dining room, disapproving (surprised?). The right to remain silent.
Paudan Jain
Had an urgent meeting, so I dose-and-dump my feverish kid sneaking him past daycare gates. Four hours later, the meds' efficacy wears off, daycare calls the primary contact—my wife. She waits till I'm back, then drops a few "innocent" questions. I'm sweating & stammering, "You had one job," she said.
Andrew Printer
I shut the jewelry box and raced downstairs. "Come swim anytime," Mum's friend had offered as my sisters flew past, towels dripping. At home, the phone rang. "I understand," Mum slurred sheepishly. Her combative eyes found mine—my ears burned. "Get the fucking necklace?" she said as I chuckled.
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…what a banger release…awesome prompt man…these are all so good…like being at a reading candy shoppe…
Thank you for the prompt and for publishing!