image: hillerscapes.co.uk
Today’s writing challenge is Fifty. Exactly fifty words.
Here are mine.
My mother required a hedge. Hawthorne. All around the large field, for an English look. My father, heart patient, dug, scraped and worked the rocks and clay to plant the shrubs. It killed him, but my mother had her English hedge. A year later she liked another house and moved.
In the late 60s Richard Proenneke built his own cabin in the Alaskan wilderness with only a few simple tools. He spent most of the rest of his life there. Sam Keith fleshed out Proenneke's diary of his first 16 months, when he was making his home by a lake. I love these kinds of books!
An old Oji-Cree healer and her nephew canoe down a river in Canada, away from the world of white people. They both have to come to terms with their past. The woman has lost most of her tribe and the young man is traumatized from his recent experience in the Belgian trenches of World War One. My second book by Boyden. Can't say enough about him.
An incredibly comprehensive history of everything related to slavery in the Southern United States, from the beginning of the colonies to the end of the Civil War. Over 700 pages and I took over 30 pages of notes. I will be sharing over many posts to come!
Hamid's debut novel. I love this author. A young man in Lahore, Pakistan, is the victim of love, drugs, obsession, the class system and his complete lack of self-awareness.
A golem, created in Poland and brought to life on a ship to America, and a jinni who was trapped in a flask a thousand years ago and released in New York -- the most unusual immigrants you'll ever meet.
The only part of her life a Korean woman can control is her body, so she withdraws into it. Harrowing.
Autobiography lightly disguised as a novel about the son of Southern migrants growing up on the streets of Harlem, New York City, in the 1940s and 50s. Written like you're hearing the whole story in a bar. Quite a feat.
The story of a man struggling to make a living in Morocco. No plot, no clearly defined characters, but fascinating in its authenticity.
Pakistani man tells an American about his experience as a college student and employee of an assessment firm in America years ago. Smart, nuanced and pretty darn honest considering the unreliable narrator.
Wow! The answer to the inane platitudes about how all parents love their children and how children should always respect their parents. The protagonist must come to terms with his deeply flawed immigrant parents in order to change himself.
Seven short stories about life during the Kim Il-sung regime, by a writer who still lives and works in North Korea, were smuggled out of the country and translated. Mind-boggling stuff.
A 15-year-old autistic narrator wants to know who killed a neighbor's dog, and ends up much further out of his comfort zone than he planned. Wonderful read!
In politics, education, religion, agriculture, business--it turns out that dumbing down has been here from the start.
Fifty years of Istanbul seen through the eyes of a street vendor who migrates to the city as a young boy. It's also a window into the complicated dance between men and women in Turkey.
Hey, don't laugh, at least I'm trying.
A Norwegian immigrant is cooped up with six other people on a tiny island off the coast of Maine all winter in 1873. A woman in the present researching the Norwegian immigrant is cooped up with three other people on a tiny sailboat. What could possibly go wrong?
A man stuck between two worlds in more ways than one. Fascinating!
Historical novel about early contacts between first nations and the French in Canada. Beautifully written story that doesn't pull any punches. I bought his other two novels right away.
Beautifully written. By my children's favorite English and Creative Writing teacher! It's got rave reviews and we're all very proud of her.
Suki Kim is a Korean-American journalist. She poses as an evangelical Christian posing as an English teacher at a school for the sons of North Korea's elite. Her experience and the information she manages to get via writing assignments are incredible. Definitely a lot more eye-opening that any CNN special.
This. Explains. Everything!!!
Why has Islam not undergone a reformation like Christianity? Why is it so easy for Islamic extremist groups like IS to recruit young muslims? What would it take for Islam in fundamentalist Islamic countries to enter modernity? Does the West have a role to play?
Amazing! A man wanders endlessly through a dreamscape, becoming other people, himself in the past, everything is fluid. Kafkaesque disconnect between people and their different needs.
A multi-layered novel about the history of Libya. A fast read, but one you can repeat and find something new each time.
Twelve Americans go missing in Burma/Myanmar during a tour. Touching and hilarious, but mostly hilarious.
The most unusual murder mystery I've ever read. Incredible writing. It haunted me for days.
The quote on the front mentions that these stories are exhilerating. I couldn't disagree more. They are almost unbearably painful to read, and yet I couldn't put them down. Very well done, apart from the third story, which is written in the second tense. Please let me know if you know of ONE story that works in second tense.
Rants, essays, and diatribes.
Fascism, Nationalism and Authoritarianism in U.S. History
He was in India. I was in Ireland. Now we're in Paris. New posts every week.
Making Sense of a Vexing and Perplexing World
Cogito Ergo Sum
daily gadfly
Understanding the psychology that drives our politics
A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.
Longreads : The best longform stories on the web
making sense of the news one week at a time
The Art and Craft of Blogging
Words by RRN
The journey of a Graphic Design graduate
Explore Scotland through my stories, photos and videos. She's a beauty!
Wanderers on two wheels!
Quintin Lake's photographic Journey walking around Britain's Coast
Adventures in the world of history
Amsterdam days and nights
196 countries, countless stories...
Postcards from afar: Immersion Travel, Cultural Travel. Currently in... Singapore!
Adventures in absurdity
navigating a world of noise as a quiet soul
Art + Photo + Words
art design & oddities
Historian, Folklorist, Writer, Re-enactor, Museum Professional. Follow me on Twitter: @stuartorme
“I have tried my best to keep my country alive by writing about it.” - Nuruddin Farah
Trimming the bush of life...
een amerikaanse schrijft over liefde, ouderschap & volwassen worden in nederland
I write books--cuz I love words. Sometimes they love me back.
the past in pop culture
a place to showcase
When will we ever learn?: Common sense and nonsense about today's public schools in America.
Rising from the ashes of domestic violence
a chronicle of recollections
There are 5 sisters. She's the middlest.
Visual Arts from Canada & Around the World
Resident Alien -- Being Dutch in America 
The moral(s) of the story…
If you like a hedge, find a healthy person to plant it. If someone asks you to plant a hedge, be sure you’re not going to die trying to look like the English. And… no matter how much you sacrifice for a woman, they will always change their mind… leaving you on the other side of the hedge.
Thus endeth the lesson.
Sorry.. that was 67 words. You win.
LikeLike
Pingback: Night Stroll | Alexia Jones
Now that sucks! SO sorry about your father, I was not ‘around’ when this happened, but I knew you were always close 🙂
LikeLike
Thanks, Hanneke.
LikeLike
Well… jeepers, Barb. Given the last couple replies from others I realized that your “50 words” was in fact a revelation of your past and not simply a spontaneous exercise to match a witty “write something limited to 50 words” kinda thing. Boy.. did I misunderstand that one. My apologies for making what seems to be some lighthearted quip regarding what I thought was simply a word challenge. If it’s been a year since your father really did meet with his untimely demise, please accept my sympathy and understanding.
When I was stationed in Iceland back in 1973 I took a 30 day leave to go home for the Christmas holidays… and my birthday which falls on January 9. In the middle of the night I head my mother downstairs going into some commotion and calling me. Seems dad was having a heart attack in bed in his sleep. By time I got to the bedroom he had stopped breathing. I tried mouth-to-mouth on him and all the rest.. but to no avail. We ended up burying him on my birthday. Mom’s death.. well, that’s another story. Bottom line… yeah.. sucks to loose parents for sure.
LikeLike
Thanks Doug. I’m sorry about your parents. That must have been hard, doing mouth to mouth on your own dad and seeing that it’s too late.
LikeLike
The circumstances around my father’s death were entirely fortuitous. I mean, his passing was indeed sad and tragic in its own right as death usually is; he was only 53… pretty young. But he had a history of high cholesterol and was a smoker, albeit he was not overweight. But he died in the window of my 30 day leave from the military at a location nearly a quarter of the planet away. I could have not been with him, or been in a position to lend comfort and assistance to my mother, at all. He died in his sleep without pain or suffering or some dragged out long illness. We celebrated the holidays as a family one last time. But the most important aspect was something most people will never do with their loved one when they pass.. his last breath came from me.
From your post I am guessing your father died while planting the hedge or sometime shortly thereafter as a result of all the physical strain? Sounds like your dad died doing something he wanted to do most of his life… please your mom because that made him happy. Gotta give love some credit… or blame, perhaps. I can only imagine how much your mother ended up hating that hedge, yet it was the last thing he did because he loved her.
LikeLike
Actually, he had said he dreaded planting that hedge at that time of year (November), because the clay was so heavy. But my mother made a scene and so he did it because what he hated more than anything was my mother’s scenes. She literally worked him to death. Yes, a normal person would have hated that hedge, but she just moved because the grass was always greener in the next house. Meryl Streep in August, Osage County has nothing on my mother.
That’s great that you spent that last part of his life with your dad and your family. Indeed a lucky coincidence.
LikeLike
Pingback: too regal to reach fifty | litadoolan
Pingback: Cinquante / Fifty | Leeloo Rocks
Pingback: First Bite at the Cherry: Weekly Writing Challenge | ALIEN AURA'S BLOG: IT'LL BLOW YOUR MIND!
Pingback: Weekly challenge: Fifty | Speaking Voiceless
Oh, what a succinct and moving piece. Life is like that. This subtle hurt and then the crash.
LikeLike
Pingback: The 19th of April 1845 – Albany, New York | Forgotten Correspondence
Pingback: Story Of My Life | Views Splash!
Pingback: The Sanctum | The Arctic Tern
Pingback: Fifty for a Story | Wired With Words
What a challenge to convey all you did in so few words – and to have the impact and punch with the ending as well. Nice job on the exercise, but my sympathies to you and your family. Be well.
LikeLike
Thanks. It happened 17 years ago. I purposely chose a big thing to see if I could convey it in fifty words. Though with all the comments I’ve made on comments, I’m not sure it counts as fifty words anymore ;-).
LikeLike
Pingback: Her First Word [50-WORD STORY] | Ramisa the Authoress
Pingback: Fifty (1): Straight. | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Our Inevitable Return | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Joshua Tree National Park, February 2014 | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Stunned—Fifty Words Story | DESIRABLE PURITY
Pingback: Healer | Another Red Letter Day
Pingback: A Soldier’s Eternity | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Stories from the Skyline | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Clean Slate | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: Things to Do Around Los Angeles | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: The Liturgy of the Damned | Vagrant Contradictions
Pingback: My Second Ever “Fifty”! | The Hempstead Man
Pingback: The meeting. (Fifty Challenge) | chey being
Pingback: Trust. A Fifty. | The Hempstead Man