20th #SatSunTails

Welcome to the twentieth #SatSunTails microfiction competition.

Be warned – the prompts aren’t easy, but that’s so you can write to the best of your ability.

If you haven’t had a go before at this writing challenge, then please don’t hesitate to try this weekend.


  • Post stories in the comments
  • Stories must be 150 words (margin of 5 words either side) AND based on the picture and written prompts.
  • If you title your entry this is not counted in your word count.
  • Only one entry allowed (so make it count)
  • End each entry with word count and name/twitter handle (if you forget these REPLY TO YOUR OWN COMMENT with them before judging closes)
  • Monday 11am GMT is the expected closing time for entries BUT the competition will be open until I put a ‘competition closed’ comment so you may be able to slip something in (because I’m extra kind like that). Got that?

If you do not comply with these rules your story will be disqualified from judging. Good spelling and grammar will also help to make a better impression on judges – the odd typo, however, will be overlooked so please don’t worry about that.

For tips, read through the critiques from last week’s entries.


There will be ONE OVERALL WINNER and THREE RUNNERS UP. After that there will be THREE CRITIQUES of three stories that didn’t make it.

It would also be nice to those participating if you could promote your fellow competitors and those who win.

Today’s Prompt!

The following may be used as a sentence in your story OR provide a basis for it:-

“crackled disconcertion”

And here is your picture prompt:

& good luck!

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9 thoughts on “20th #SatSunTails”

  1. The reality of her actions hadn't quite set in, and between the sound of blood rushing through her ear and the cacophonous downpour, she couldn't hear herself think loud enough to contemplate them.

    It was raining back then to, but the oppressive black of night had been replaced by an obfuscating grey. The rain was different too – it was the drizzle that either precedes or follows a storm.

    He probably assumed that she was dead – he had of course, left her helpless. She should have been dead, yet somehow she wasn't. Left out without food, weapon or clothes. Water was the one thing she had in plentiful supply, the streams that poured over her skin sucking every bit of warmth left in her.

    She wasn't quite sure how she managed it.

    But she had gotten what she came for.

    She had taken that fucking bastard's head

  2. As I kid I hated visiting Granddad’s cabin. It was this rustic old affair squat out in the hinterlands like a stereotype of the noble savage. Amenities included a roof and four walls, creating a rough distinction between indoors and out. There was no power, and no plumbing.

    Why the old codger left the property to me I couldn’t fathom, but I knew exactly what I’d do with it. One bright clear weekend I drove out to the old place. I packed only kerosene and matches to haul over the hike from the road to the cabin.

    The old man was dead, but I swear he saw me coming. Wind whipped up and buffeted me back while clouds came out of nowhere to drench me and my matches clear through.

    The lethargic burn of the water logged house wasn’t as cathartic as I’d hoped, but I’d be damned if I let Granddad win this time.

    155 words
    (my best stab at using the prompt as a basis rather than directly)

  3. The door slammed shut.

    I sat there. Shocked. Disconcertion crackling through my mind as the sound of the car door slamming echoed like thunder in my ears. All I could do was watch as she walked across the field, getting soaked, getting her stuff soaked.

    Lightning lit up the sky, forcing my eyes to see. Thunder hammering at my ears. Haunting me. I sat in my car, wondering if I should get out, go after her, ask what I’d done. Knowing I wouldn’t. That would just make her more angry.

    I knew I’d never know, and never understand what I’d done. She would ever explain. It was one of those social behavior things we’re all supposed to know. But I don’t. I can’t understand social behavior. I can’t even tell it’s there.

    So I just sat there. In my car. Alone.

    150 words

    He who has been hammered by the prompts…

  4. The downpour was unexpected, but a cloudless blue sky had turned a dismal grey. Drenched in seconds, her clothes stuck to her skin as she moved. Misery flooded through her, and head bent, she blinked furiously against the rain pouring into her eyes. She liked the rain but this was ridiculous.

    A rusted gate blocked her path and just beyond, she made out a derelict-looking barn. Relief lifted her spirits. Shelter.

    She opened the gate and headed to the barn. Its doors were open, and as she stepped inside the world fell silent. She shivered and looked behind her. The rain was still falling. Why couldn’t she hear it? Disconcertion crackled through her, but she forced herself to ignored it. She wanted to leave the rain behind. Shaking the water from her hair, she ignored the tingling along her spine.

    She only realised her mistake when the doors slammed shut.

    151 words

  5. Better This Way

    This time it wasn't the dull ache of repressed guilt and shame she usually felt after once again disappointing her father. No getting suspended at school or being caught steeling a shirt at the mall. It was much worse.

    Damn, if she could just stop being such an idiot. One night a year is all he asked. A single evening of good behavior, and God forbid, a little help.

    Sonia arrived at the fund raiser obscenely dressed and more obscenely drunk. She didn't mean to get so sloshed. Like always, it just happened. She might have escaped the night with little harm if she hadn't hit on Dad's best friend… in front of his wife. The subsequent ruckus ended the party before donations could be accepted.

    After sobering up, crackled disconcertion overcame Sonia's hangover, and she fled. At least she left a note. She owed him that.

    "Dad, I'm leaving. It's better this way."

    @Leo_Godin – 154 words

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