So long

Well, this year long writing challenge finally reaches its conclusion. As the late Douglas Adams once wrote, “There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler’s mind.” Much love to you all, your support kept me going. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

** this is for my mum and dad, and indeed everyone else who probably thought I was crazy when I started Fifty Words a Day. They were, undoubtedly, right.

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The top five regrets of the dying

She read somewhere that people in their dying days cite this as their biggest regret: I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. This struck a chord, so she made some changes. And at last she found happiness.

** if you missed it, the other four regrets are here.

Identify the essential

A friend of mine says he is applying Zen minimalism to his life, in order to achieve greater fulfilment. His teacher states, “Simplicity boils down to two steps: Identify the essential. Eliminate the rest.” I think this is all well and good, as long as he doesn’t accidentally eliminate me.

** thanks for this one, Mark.

It doesn’t hurt to dream

At times like this I want to run away. I don’t really care where to. Maybe a mountain top cabin, or a tree house in a forest. But today I choose a tropical island. Sun bleached sand, palms for shade and the clearest, bluest ocean. It doesn’t hurt to dream.

** after today there will be only three more stories till this challenge is complete.

The falling

Wind battered. Rain sodden. Sun baked. For two hundred years the tree had braved the elements. But then the great storm came. Arms waving like a man overboard, the tree held on for dear life, hoping to be saved. Until finally it conceded it was time. Time to let go.

** thanks to Daisy for setting me the challenge of writing about a tree today.

Where there’s a will

When I was a child I truly believed that if I wished for something hard enough it would come true. I waited patiently, with my eyes shut tight, willing it to happen. As an adult I have a more pragmatic approach, though the principal remains more or less the same.

A Christmas tale

The small child woke on Christmas morning. Confused at first, she soon remembered where she was. Or rather, where she wasn’t. They had been evicted from their flat only days before, with nowhere else to go. The temporary accommodation was scary. All she wanted for Christmas was to go home.

** 80,000 children in the UK are facing homelessness this Christmas.

This is my story – part twenty-one

I reworked the concluding chapter and at long last became a published author. I always did love a happy ending. Which reminds me, you might be wondering what happened to Molly. I wish I had time to tell you, but like millions of others, you’ll have to buy the book.

The end

This is my story – part twenty

I had always thought I would celebrate the day I completed the book, but it passed uneventfully, like any other. The manuscript still needed an edit before I could send it to potential agents and besides, I wasn’t yet happy with the ending. But the fact remained, it was finished.

This is my story – part nineteen

Before she was able to see inside the lower chamber, Molly was startled by the sound of footsteps behind her. As they descended the stairs it became quickly apparent that more than one person was approaching. “Don’t go in there, Molly,” urged a voice from the darkness. But she did.