27th #SatSunTails

Welcome to the twenty-seventh #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:-

“debasing rituals”

And here is your picture prompt:

& good luck!

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2 thoughts on “27th #SatSunTails”

  1. A Lunchtime Treat

    Jacob wished he still had his watch. It had been his grandfather’s and had been the young man’s most prized possession. Such things as keepsakes and memories were of little importance to the Nazi pig who had taken it right off his wrist. The curfews, the checkpoints, the random searches were all part and parcel of the debasing rituals commonplace since the occupation.

    To make up time, he cut through the tulip fields, pushing his bicycle along. He prayed he would be in time. The factory changed shifts every day at noon and, say what you would of the soldiers, they followed procedures dutifully.

    As part of their inspection of the incoming workers, the guards would plunder the men’s lunches for treats or contraband. He smiled, imagining the surprised look of the soldier who would open his basket today when he realized that, in so doing, he had pulled the pin of the grenade within.

    155 words @klingorengi

  2. Sunday, 19 August 2012

    I did not go to church today. I did not go to that broken place. I did not practice their debasing rituals of prayer. Where broken, wounded people gather and pray that God will heal them, and take away their pain. People that have given up. That are afraid to live the lives they’ve been blessed with, for living is what wounded them. Where everyone begs God, “Show me what to do. Tell me how to live. So I won’t make mistakes. So I won’t get hurt again.”

    Instead, I rode my bike to the tulip gardens several miles away. Where I thanked God for the flowers he made. For the gift of each sunrise, and each sunset. For every breath I take, and every beat my heart makes. I know no better way to heal my wounds, and take away my pain.

    150 words

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