Writespiration #101 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 5

writespiration-20172017 is the year of 52… 52 challenges over 52 weeks in 52 words.

Your challenge is to write your story using the weekly theme/prompt and write it in just 52 words…. EXACTLY, no more, no less.

Submit your entries in the comments or on a blog post and I post them the following week with the new prompt. You have until Sunday to enter (if you submit after Sunday, I can’t guarantee to get your entry in with the following week – I will, however, post it in the week after that).

Apologies to the number of you who posted pingbacks, that didn’t appear last week… Clearly, the WordPress gremlins are in full force. Soz for missing your entries. It still seems to be happening so it might be worth dropping a comment to say you have posted – just in case. 

Somewhere in your 52 words you need to include ALL the following words:

Time, Stack, Juice, Pigeon

Now to last week’s entries.

Hugh (Lost things prompt)

It wasn’t only her false teeth she’d lost. She was speechless and had now lost all her words. Why had she said those things?

Bleeding to death, it wasn’t long before she lost her world. Losing your tongue was painful, but a great meal for the executioner’s cat who licked its lips.


Helen (Lost things prompt)

D’you like lost things?’


‘Lost things.’ He smiled, gesturing at the old books, dusty hats, faded postcards. Ornaments filled cabinets, gold lace spilled out of a wardrobe door. ‘All these things belonged to someone once. Now they’re lost.’

I stared at him.

‘Sometimes the people who come here are lost, too.’



Where Once They Gathered

You don’t see them any more, gathering in rows of chairs by the sliced meats and cheeses, talking, laughing in fits and starts, supermarket misty-eyed, drooling just a little bit, that small pool of saliva can ooze out from worn lips, hundreds of memories and dreams resting on the shelves of time.



I wait to hear the door close, the sound of footsteps outside, moving away purposefully. Always the same, no matter what the situation. Not one to hesitate or change your mind. Ringing loud at first, they fade. I count slowly. When I reach a hundred I will stop. Then I will cry.


Pensitivity  (Pens)

Six Generations, started from a single lie.
The cake was brought in as everybody sang.
She smiled sweetly, then suddenly started to laugh.
Everyone applauded, singing even louder.
To the person on her left she whispered,
‘I’m only 99. We had to lie about my age to marry and no-one ever found out!’



He blinked.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, his voice croaking and previously unused.

“Exactly one century” answered a voice with practiced calm.

He took a moment to process the news.

“Then, my friends… my family… they’re all…”

He was met with a solemn nod.

Tears broke his eyes.



Finding inspiration is tough

My brain feels buried in fluff

I can’t think what to say

When I blog every day

Writespiration can’t come soon enough!

I came across dear Sacha Black

Now there’s no turning back

Her prompts get me writing

They are so exciting

100 posts, no time to slack!



Sheesh! Who’d a thunk it?

Still, it was worth it. It was a great night!

The music was pumping, the people were dancing, the drinks were flowing.

Jeez, were they flowing… One hundred bottles of flowing!

No wonder my head hurts.

Just wake me when it’s all tidy!

Perks of hitting 100!



Who says I have to do it a 100 times to gain expertise? I am talented, inspired and young. Let me prove that I was born with it. Oh, you are not the right person, let me find someone who appreciates.

I counted my attempts again. 100. There are no short cuts.



… and 100. I had to find them in the old house. It was our secret place. Weird noises kept others away. I knew they’d use the cellar; I’d told them I was scared of the cellar so of course they would. As I locked that door, I knew I’d never count to 100 again.


Luccia came up with three beautiful entries, so I included them all!

100 numbers

‘100 isn’t a lot, is it?

Seconds: 1.4 minutes

Minutes: 1.4 hours

Days: 3.4 months

Weeks: 1.9 years

Years: A century

1/10 of a millennium

1/5 of the Christian era

45/billionth of the age of the earth.

Not much, really.’

‘I’d like to live to 100.’

‘I’m quite sure I already have.’


100 Mysteries

When I think of big numbers, I think of grains of sand, flowers, stars, the ancient Egyptians, dead sea scrolls, star trek, the universe, eternity, life after death, the meaning of life before death, and things I don’t understand and perhaps never will, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real, does it?

100 Flowers

You ask for a star
I offer you 100 flowers.
You say it’s not good enough.
I say these flowers will do.
You say it is too easy to offer 100 flowers.
So I write you a tragedy about
How 100 flowers
Are so easy to give and so hard to accept.


      1. Oh God!!! Along with my #loveuary challenge posting every day about love… I have a wedding on Saturday… bit I’m determined! I’ll work through this headache to get something… whatever nonsense comes to mind lol!!

          1. I commented on your post with a link.
            The wedding is amazing. I’m at The Dorchester at the reception at the moment eating loads… music pumping… will post pics on FB later!!!!

  1. Week 5
    Sweet Temptation

    As the pancakes rose higher six-year-old Pigeon drooled, forgetting the school bullies. Mum poured soothing golden syrup over the stack, and a good sprinkling of crunchy sugar. Told him to eat up.

    Each birthday another stone showed on the scales.

    At nineteen he saw Harry – and fell in love.

    Time to diet.

  2. Pigeon Puree
    Jessie hated pigeons. As a kid, she loved them. Now, a maintenance contractor, she fought a constant battle to keep them away from her buildings. In her free time, she devised ways to kill them. Today she’d brought an industrial sized liquidiser: first she’d catch them, then stack, then juice the brutes.

  3. The news-vendor sipped his juice, observing the pigeon perched on the stack of papers at his side. It stepped from foot to foot, as if wiping off glue. As he stood to shoo it away, it took flight, leaving a hole in the paper. Underneath, he saw the words time to fly.

  4. Break time was over. Tossing the last of my juice, I made my way to the server stacks, marveling as always at how much data could be housed within such a small space. A coo caught my ear. A pigeon roosted on the main power switch. It shifted. Squatted. I gulped. No!

  5. Some great entries this week, once again – amazing what you can do with 52 words! Here’s my attempt for this week:

    ‘Pigeon juice.’
    Tourist. I curled my lip. ‘Don’t waste my time.’
    I returned to thumbing through the stack of receipts, hoping he’d take the hint.
    But he didn’t leave. ‘Pijon Jus?’
    ‘Of course sir, why didn’t you say so?’ I reached for our most expensive bottle of wine, and uncorked it.


    1. hahaha!!!!! Lost in translation. That’s hilarious. OMG I thought I’d made it hard this week, but some of these entries (including yours) are genius. You’re so clever Mrs. Jones.

  6. I’m on a roll of insanity. This was a cinch.

    It was time to make the pigeon juice and stack the crow nuggets in the back of the van with the stuffed sea gulls. The buffet was due to begin at noon, and I had at least an hour’s drive ahead of me. These themed lunch parties were getting weirder and weirder.

  7. “Hey, Pru, nice landing on that smokestack.”

    “Thank you, kind sir.”

    “Pru, I’m no sir. Its me. Penelope.”

    “Penny. Its been forever. You look well.”

    “Thanks. Been drinking some fine Kickapoo juice. You should try it.”

    “Maybe I will. Someday.”

    “Oh yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re still on Pigeon time, eh!”


  8. Here’s mine… havent done one of these in ages!

    “What the feck?”
    “Birdstrike. Hurry. Ma’ll kill us if we’re not in time fer dinner.”
    “Shite! We’re out of juice!”
    “We can sleep in a haystack.”
    “Not with your farting and snoring and belching.”
    “Don’t fecking snore!”
    “Fancy roadkill roast pigeon?”
    “Grand, so.”
    “Snore like a fecking train, so yer do.”


  9. Not everyone welcomed the new drinking establishment on the street. Thought it wouldn’t stack up. What did the young ones know? It was time to see some tradition coming back to the neighbourhood. The funky name was a ruse. The Juice Pigeon Pub had become the hot spot for the old timers.


  10. I just found your challenges, and although far too late to properly participate, I wrote this in answer to your prompt. 🙂 Thank you for sharing such a lovely idea!


    Melinda noted the time. Seven. Late again. She sipped her cranberry juice wishing for an infusion of vodka to brighten the taste. She envied the freedom of the pigeons frolicking outside, longed for careless afternoons of ill-spent youth. Yet stacks of paperwork waited, and her unforgiving boss enjoyed ruining reputations when displeased.

    1. This is a cracking entry. Love how you made these random words work – will post this with all the other entries from this week on Weds next week 😀 Thank you so much for playing

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