Hemingway’s was "For sale, baby shoes. Never used."
Norman Mailer, David Lodge, Robert Olen Butler, and others try.
Caterina asks her readers. My favorite from the comments is:
She watched the world end.
Again.
I’ll try "Demand sloped up, Harry is naked."
How about you?
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Bobby Fisher makes antisemitic radio shows.
An “A” student at Columbine High
staying here STOP send children STOP
Indian engineer in America; drives taxis
She looked. He winked. She blushed.
The sequel is:
“How does lunch sound?”
-”Lovely.”
“Perfect.”
Firing, Gurbrok laughed “Economics? Pah!”
Ripped from the headlines:
Little man. Big bomb. Sun sets.
Hemmingway’s is superb, as is Tyler’s pick from the other comments. Several others are good, but too many try to summarize a story in six words rather than write a story that’s only six words long. My effort:
“Release me!”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Never again.”
Finally, but it was too late.
She left. He wept too late.
They laughed, sat and hands met.
I second hamilton. Andrew’s third haunts my attempts.
Assassinated economist’s dying words: “Markets in …”
“What? Only six words? What a…”
He looked too late. She’s alone.
It sounded easy, so was failing.
Brewwery for sale, priced to move.
Seeking ride to New York, one way.
Oh, and I posted this at one of the other sites, but my guy wants me to post it here too:
“Oppression, revolt, chaos, commonality, progress, oppression.”
Creation, Corruption, Catastrophe, Christ, Cross, Consumation.
Breakfast Chez Moi?
Whatever.
Cornflakes then.
Water?
I don’t drink.
Heroin?
Naturally!
Lonely?
Not enough.
You’ll make it.
Worth a try, but I don’t think anyone’s beating Hemmingway at this one. Nice stories, though.
-For the first time, nothing happened.
-Once in a while she calls.
-Perfect, she’s not wearing a ring. (Do contractions count?)
-I’m not likely to succeed either.
-Lived to be ninety. No regrets.
Clearly the best method, as shown by Hemingway and (in his pseudo-intellectual way) Mailer, is to invoke a maximum of external context to support the story. Witness Roger Waters’s five-word story, “Two Suns in the Sunset”.
So, what are some heavily loaded words (or two-word phrases)? Hmmmmm…
“Warming. Bangladesh vanishes, Calgary supplants Vegas.”
“Her choice could never be unmade.”
“Goldmans to trailer park. Damn Spitzer.”
Head hurting, he again vowed abstinence.
He [penitently] applied ice to her [eye]. (I know that is cheating.)
This is depressing.
How about -
She smiled, it was pink.
I like that one better.
This reminds me of haiku.
Doubled over, vomiting grass, Nebakanezer
understood.
Hello,
This is a great blog. I’m going to be sure to link yours to mine. Would you mind doing the same for me?
Thank you very much.
My site:
http://www.americanlegends.blogspot.com
Take care,
Mark
1. “Throw strikes!” Gone. Cubs go home.
2. “Where are you, mom?” “Here.” “Good.”
3. “I do.” “I do.” Let’s go.
Hemingway’s is universal, not mere context.
Didn’t know six words had power.
Enough with the hopeless love stories.
Serial six word comments shouldn’t count.
Diamonds, perfect; never see the world.
Love is eternal, while it lasts. – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Sorry Ivan.
Felt it. Got some. Blew it.
He’s sadistic, she was a masochist.
But you said you were infertile!
God doesn’t love you, I do.
It tasted good, like sweet kerosene.
Oily Labrador ash floated upward. Bye.
Hold on… One. Word. Story:
Enjoy!
Stories don’t seem to be true.
Take the gun, leave the cannoli.
No go, goes in Germany again.
Could it really be that small?
His last unmade bed, we leave.
New apartment empty; s**t in transit.
Seven shots. Or eight? I forget.
Any grandchildren, Casey will be providing.
inspired by Camus’s short story:
Rock rolls down again. Sisyphus happy.
I have seen starships on fire…
Look! Look! inside the bag. Aaaggh!
Haha, Caliban.
“Main screen turn on. It’s you!!”
Leaving home now. Never coming back.
Economist to Saint Peter: Where’s Adam?
“Hey Ram”.
Despite his importance, he deserved assassination.
Incredulous, he read the article again.
“Politicians”?
“Well, S equals D”.
Sure?
No blue line appeared.
Rachel exhaled
My effort is:
Born, died on the same day.
…No one ate the birthday cake.
If reading this, you’re too late.
Running. Don’t know why. Mustn’t stop.
I am stuck. Please send help.
The fiery ship passed from sight.
And that’s how I became king.
Lights. Wake up. I wasn’t dreaming?
Funny taste. What’d you put in–
Or less?
New house. No Family. Bliss.
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