78 Word Story Challenge



I found out that Esquire magazine was running a 78-word Short Story Contest, and decided to enter. 78 words (exactly!) may not sound like much, but in some ways it's harder to write a story that length than 1000 or 2000 words, so I needed practice. I used one of my favorite motifs - writing a story based on a picture - and another writer who calls herself Lisa Bradley (her real name may or may not be J.K. Rowling) agreed to try it out too, for something different, and to give me someone to complain to when my efforts crashed and burned. (I didn't count on hers being good and showing me up, but you can't have everything.)


Miss Bradley is a former World Champion in the 100m, 200m and 500m Burlap Sack Races. In 1997, she discovered a rare species of ceramic Frog. In 2002 Lisa was a contestant on the popular Australian animal-impressions game show "What a Croc!" (She won first prize for her disturbingly accurate impression of a drop-bear devouring a family of wombats.) Miss Bradley currently lives in Western Australia on a vegemite farm with her family, two attack-weasels and a pygmy pachyderm named  Rumple. She works on a website called Story Space, where she writes sensual stories that are, "just dirty enough so my mum won't read it, but not so filthy that my dad or brothers will." 


Miss Bradley's 78-word story of the picture is first, followed by Hyperion's.







Waiting

by Lisa Bradley


Tied, bound, she awaits his touch. Panting breaths, straining breasts, her body aches. The need to beg him overwhelms her. She knows this is all part of the game. Later…Much later, he’ll reward her patience and take her, hardness thrusting into soft warmth to satiate the hunger. Her thighs will clench around him, her body shuddering with relief. Later still, there will be tenderness; roaming lips, whispered words, stroking hands. For now though, it’s all about the anticipation.







Deliver Me
by Hyperion

Lord of Light, hear my plea: deliver me in my hour of greatest need, from Darkness, who soon this way comes. My body offered in living sacrifice: breasts, his to suckle; skin, his to scratch and bite; my unflowered garden his to sow his seed, but it will never be enough to slake him. He will ravage me to ecstasy and death, then take the others. Deliver me, Lord of Light, the strength needed to satisfy the Darkness.


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