How to Wrtie a Short Story!

First make sure the spelling of the title is correct, cause you can't change it later. Then post it.

Ahh . . . I that's better I gave him a computer instead of the typewriter that he had. I also added some paint to the roof of his dog house.

Good insturctions!!

Wow. You are the first to leave a comment. Thanks so much.

Did you get this story published?

D_Gray wrote:

Did you get this story published?

That dog is Snoopy It is owned by Charles Schultz. How would I be able to publish it? Impossible.

Denver

It was just a joke :)

I'm a silly human, admitted.

1. Keep it short 2. The first five sentences should instruct the reader about the persons, time, place etc. - who, where, when, what, why 3. The end should come with a twist and surprise

'I really ask myself, why I should not kill you here and now, in a desert, with no witness around?'

Mallory starred straight at me with the usual ironic twist around his mouth. The barrel of the peacemaker in his hand did not shake. Instead it pointed very steady towards my heart, now beating with a rapid pulse. The rapid pulse of a man gaping into the small, dark eye of death at the end of a colt, reflecting the guilty pulsations of anguish in the mind of a first time bank robber. It was early morning, the sun just starting to climb on the ladder of pink horizon, a peaceful summer morning in the desert of Texas, in the year 1877, and between my best friend and me near the campfire stood a leather bag filled with more than ten thousand dollars in cash...

You forgot humor . . And paragraphs . . . You need to eliminate unnecessary words . .

Besides this not writing 101A. . .

DENVER

I snooped around. "Somebody was in the doghouse," she had said, and I had to find out who.

I heard the clear staccato notes of either high heels sliding backward on an escalator, or perhaps a typewriting dog on the roof of a converted Sopwith Camel. I had to know.

My trigger finger practiced involuntarily as I approached, and then I caught that scent. So HE was here!

Nobody could forget the colorful scent of Brown... Charlie Brown.

I just realized that DenverHigh has issued a challenge here. Construct a short story which fulfills his conditions. Please correct me if I'm wrong, sir. Either way, I will commence.

Attempt one. Title: "Nude people in college"

It was a stark and dormy night...

Oops, six unanswered questions about the plot, but I did get a title in place. Will try again.

The night was, as many are in these parts, dark. A storm was raging on.

I was glued to my typewriter, hoping once again to create the next great novel (note to self: should there have been a comma between next & great? 2nd note, get storm-resistant glue).

Suddenly a shot rang out! My fingers hesitated over the keys. What could this mean?

A door slammed, and all became clear again. The Master has had his nightly shot, and was off to bed.

Then, like clockwork, the maid screamed. It wasn't the Master's first shot tonight, and he had gone to the wrong bed again.

As he stumbled past the fireplace, suddenly a ship appeared on the horizon! Thousands of toothpicks assembled so delicately in that bottle. A masterpiece!

While he ascended the stairs, the thought occurred: What of those who can't afford toothpicks? They must be starving! Surely the King can help!

The next morning he was off to the township of Luxury, where the king (who was actually a man from Memphis) was playing all challengers in chess; this year especially New York farm boys named Bobby.

The End. PS: Bobby became a world champion. Not much more to come.

In verse form, the meter should be familiar:

The night was dark with storm,

So trying too stay warm

I sat on the roof, while feeling aloof,

Which was my standard form.

A shot rang loud and clear

For everyone to hear.

I heard a door slam, and figured, "Oh damn!

Is this a thing to fear?"

I thought, "time to take notes."

And writ these words I wrotes.

My typewriter sang, then suddenly rang

The maid screaming in "quotes"

The rain had raised the sea

So quite dramatically

That while in my scare, I became aware:

A ship stared back at me!

And millions there must be

Who float upon this sea

With no bread to take, and not even cake

To eat! The king must see!

And so the King I sought,

Then found him on his yacht,

Which bobbed all about. By Bobby, no doubt,

A thing, the king was taught.

A champion was thus crowned,

Though almost all had drowned.

This isn't the last, you'll hear from this fast,

Frantically typing hound.

MORE

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DENVER