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<channel>
	<title>50-Word Stories</title>
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	<description>Brand new bite-sized fiction every weekday!</description>
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		<title>LAURA BYRNE: Waves</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/laura-byrne-waves/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/laura-byrne-waves/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 07 Apr 2026 16:00:04 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[being seen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[exterior and interior]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[human condition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Laura Byrne]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mental health]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63605</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Her hair grew longer each day, or maybe it was she who grew smaller. Anyhow, it got longer and longer until one day there was more hair than girl. The compliments came in endless waves until one day someone realized that, somewhere along the way, the girl underneath had disappeared. Laura Byrne is a public &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/laura-byrne-waves/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">LAURA BYRNE: Waves</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Her hair grew longer each day, or maybe it was she who grew smaller. Anyhow, it got longer and longer until one day there was more hair than girl. The compliments came in endless waves until one day someone realized that, somewhere along the way, the girl underneath had disappeared.</p>
<hr />
<p>Laura Byrne is a public health student, certified yoga teacher, and peer educator. She&#8217;s passionate about making mental and physical health accessible and equitable for all, whether through campus initiatives or state policy. In her free time, she enjoys writing, reading, and long walks on the beach with her dog.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63605</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>SUDHA BALAGOPAL: Because You Demanded An Inventory&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/sudha-balagopal-because-you-demanded-an-inventory/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/sudha-balagopal-because-you-demanded-an-inventory/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 07 Apr 2026 10:00:57 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[human condition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sudha Balagopal]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63603</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Ten frayed-collar tops, folded; nine crumpled dress pants, stacked; eight pairs of faded socks, balled; seven sets of misshapen underwear, rolled; six shabby pajamas, bundled; five exhausted, knee-length dresses, crammed; four dingy skirts, stuffed; three ancient earrings, wrapped; two wobbly suitcases shut, snapped; one illusory love story, concluded; zero regrets. Sudha Balagopal&#8217;s recent fiction appears &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/07/sudha-balagopal-because-you-demanded-an-inventory/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">SUDHA BALAGOPAL: Because You Demanded An Inventory&#8230;</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Ten frayed-collar tops, folded;<br />
nine crumpled dress pants, stacked;<br />
eight pairs of faded socks, balled;<br />
seven sets of misshapen underwear, rolled;<br />
six shabby pajamas, bundled;<br />
five exhausted, knee-length dresses, crammed;<br />
four dingy skirts, stuffed;<br />
three ancient earrings, wrapped;<br />
two wobbly suitcases shut, snapped;<br />
one illusory love story, concluded;<br />
zero regrets.</p>
<hr />
<p>Sudha Balagopal&#8217;s recent fiction appears in Fictive Dream, Adroit Journal and Does It Have Pockets among other journals. She has had two novellas-in-flash published by Ad Hoc Fiction: Nose Ornaments and Things I Can&#8217;t Tell Amma. Her stories have been included in Best Microfiction and Best Small Fictions. She is Series Editor, Wigleaf Top 50.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63603</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>JOANNA NORLAND: Reverend Austen Orders a Gift for His Daughter</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/joanna-norland-reverend-austen-orders-a-gift-for-his-daughter/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/joanna-norland-reverend-austen-orders-a-gift-for-his-daughter/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Apr 2026 16:00:33 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Amusing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creativity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[inspiration]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jane Austen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Joanna Norland]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63598</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[“A girl with a lively imagination must be in want of–” “A writing desk!” Jane exclaimed. “Oh, Papa!” She opened the gleaming mahogany drawer. Out scrambled a tiny . . . Someone. Brilliant eyes. Muddy petticoats. ”I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” curtseyed the Someone. “I’ve been waiting for you. Let our adventures begin!” Joanna Norland &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/joanna-norland-reverend-austen-orders-a-gift-for-his-daughter/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">JOANNA NORLAND: Reverend Austen Orders a Gift for His Daughter</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>“A girl with a lively imagination must be in want of–”</p>
<p>“A writing desk!” Jane exclaimed. “Oh, Papa!”</p>
<p>She opened the gleaming mahogany drawer.<br />
Out scrambled a tiny . . . Someone.<br />
Brilliant eyes. Muddy petticoats.</p>
<p>”I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” curtseyed the Someone. “I’ve been waiting for you. Let our adventures begin!”</p>
<hr />
<p>Joanna Norland is a <a href="https://www.joannanorland.com/post/newsletter-april-1-2026" target="_blank" rel="noopener">writing coach</a> and playwright whose <a href="https://www.joannanorland.com/my-writing" target="_blank" rel="noopener">scripts</a>, including <em>Lizzy, Darcy and Jane</em>, and a one-act and full-length adaptation of<em> Pride and Prejudice</em>, have been produced on four continents.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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			<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
		
		
		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63598</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>MARIA CARGILLE: Fallow&#8217;s Fruit</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/maria-cargille-fallows-fruit/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/maria-cargille-fallows-fruit/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 06 Apr 2026 10:00:42 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[archaeology]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[history]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[irony]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Maria Cargille]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63596</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[As archaeologists, we benefit from tragedy and the human response to it– the interrupted meal, the sunken ship, the broken obelisk, the bog-claimed child. We are consumed by the bread of the grave goods, and the fields that once nourished cities; we marvel. We hold broken bones in our hands. Maria Cargille wrote this story. &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/06/maria-cargille-fallows-fruit/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">MARIA CARGILLE: Fallow&#8217;s Fruit</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>As archaeologists, we benefit from tragedy<br />
and the human response to it–<br />
the interrupted meal, the sunken ship,<br />
the broken obelisk, the bog-claimed child.<br />
We are consumed by the bread of the grave goods,<br />
and the fields that once nourished cities;<br />
we marvel. We hold broken bones in our hands.</p>
<hr />
<p>Maria Cargille wrote this story. Her desk is punctuated with lines of beach glass, one stray press block, and countless second-hand postcards.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63596</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>STORY OF THE WEEK: April 5</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/05/story-of-the-week-april-5-2/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/05/story-of-the-week-april-5-2/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2026 20:23:06 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[News]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63600</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[The story of the week for March 30 to April 3 is… Wearing Clouds by Angela Carlton]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The story of the week for March 30 to April 3 is…</p>
<p><a href="https://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/01/angela-carlton-wearing-clouds/"><b>Wearing Clouds</b></a> by Angela Carlton</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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			<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
		
		
		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63600</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>SARAH SORENSEN: Moon Walker</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/sarah-sorensen-moon-walker/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/sarah-sorensen-moon-walker/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 03 Apr 2026 16:00:54 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[childhood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[limits]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nostalgia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sarah Sorenson]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63594</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Sometimes, my dad turned me upside down and I walked on the popcorn ceiling, so short it became my whole moonscape. Each pink toe pad pushed like a button. Now, clouds ribbon the blue above me and I gaze upwards, longing. Clouds like ethereal moss, sliding through between my toes. Sarah Sorensen (she/her) MA, MLIS &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/sarah-sorensen-moon-walker/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">SARAH SORENSEN: Moon Walker</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Sometimes, my dad turned me upside down and I walked on the popcorn ceiling, so short it became my whole moonscape. Each pink toe pad pushed like a button. Now, clouds ribbon the blue above me and I gaze upwards, longing. Clouds like ethereal moss, sliding through between my toes.</p>
<hr />
<p>Sarah Sorensen (she/her) MA, MLIS is a queer writer based in the Metro Detroit area. She’s honored to be named a 2025 Best Small Fictions author and runner-up in the 2025 RockPaperPoem Poetry Contest. Sarah’s poetry chapbook, Light Splits Down the Wolf’s Tooth is now available through Bottlecap Press.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63594</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>NANCY STEPHAN: Visiting My Daughter</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/nancy-stephan-visiting-my-daughter/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/nancy-stephan-visiting-my-daughter/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 03 Apr 2026 10:00:21 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Touching]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[estrangement]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[loss]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nancy Stephan]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parent]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sad]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63592</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[For the first time in 15 years, I couldn’t find your place. I parked where I always park, but the whole area looked unfamiliar. Valentine roses in hand, I walked around for 11 minutes before giving up. I should’ve asked at the office but couldn’t admit to losing you twice. Nancy Stephan is a writer &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/03/nancy-stephan-visiting-my-daughter/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">NANCY STEPHAN: Visiting My Daughter</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>For the first time in 15 years, I couldn’t find your place.</p>
<p>I parked where I always park, but the whole area looked unfamiliar. Valentine roses in hand, I walked around for 11 minutes before giving up.</p>
<p>I should’ve asked at the office but couldn’t admit to losing you twice.</p>
<hr />
<p>Nancy Stephan is a writer and poet living in Atlanta, GA. She won Georgia Author of the Year (GAYA) for her memoir, <em>The Truth About Butterflies,</em> and spends much of her time reading and writing poetry. See more at <a href="https://www.nancystephan.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">nancystephan.com</a>.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63592</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>LYNN MESSING: The Grocery Store Outing &#8212; Two Perspectives</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/lynn-messing-the-grocery-store-outing-two-perspectives/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/lynn-messing-the-grocery-store-outing-two-perspectives/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 02 Apr 2026 19:00:50 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[autism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[difference]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lynn Messing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[understanding]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63588</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Mother’s thoughts: Why must you melt down every time we come to the grocery store? I hate autism. Son’s thoughts on experiencing sensory overload: Lights on, off, on, off, on off. Noise. People move. Many people. Stuff. Bright colors. Too much! Eyes hurt. Ears hurt. Head hurts. No. NO. NO!!! Lynn Messing is the mother &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/lynn-messing-the-grocery-store-outing-two-perspectives/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">LYNN MESSING: The Grocery Store Outing &#8212; Two Perspectives</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Mother’s thoughts: Why must you melt down every time we come to the grocery store? I hate autism.</p>
<p>Son’s thoughts on experiencing sensory overload: Lights on, off, on, off, on off. Noise. People move. Many people. Stuff. Bright colors. Too much! Eyes hurt. Ears hurt. Head hurts. No. NO. NO!!!</p>
<hr />
<p>Lynn Messing is the mother of a young man with autism. At some point in his youth she came to realize the reason he hated grocery store outings was that he felt his senses were being assaulted by the flickering fluorescent lights, the bright colours, movements, noises and scents. She then tried to make all grocery store runs when the stores were relatively empty and to make them as quick as possible. She submitted this story this month in honor of World Autism Awareness/Acceptance Day which takes place on April 2nd.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63588</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>ELLEN TOWNSEND: Taste of Regret</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/ellen-townsend-taste-of-regret/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/ellen-townsend-taste-of-regret/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 02 Apr 2026 16:00:45 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Ellen Townsend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[metaphor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mistakes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[regret]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63590</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Amy scrubs the farm potatoes; water browns. Grips the vegetable brush, knuckles white; scrapes off marks, blemishes, turning them pure, clean. The potatoes smell of lingering looks, hidden kisses, regret. She rinses away that night, but a layer of residue remains as her husband’s tires crunch gravel on the driveway. Ellen Townsend is an art &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/ellen-townsend-taste-of-regret/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">ELLEN TOWNSEND: Taste of Regret</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Amy scrubs the farm potatoes; water browns. Grips the vegetable brush, knuckles white; scrapes off marks, blemishes, turning them pure, clean.</p>
<p>The potatoes smell of lingering looks, hidden kisses, regret. She rinses away that night, but a layer of residue remains as her husband’s tires crunch gravel on the driveway.</p>
<hr />
<p>Ellen Townsend is an art teacher and writer. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Flash Fiction Magazine, Fairfield Scribes, 50-Word Stories and others.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">63590</post-id>	</item>
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		<title>TOM WILD: The Soundless Pull</title>
		<link>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/tom-wild-the-soundless-pull/</link>
					<comments>http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/tom-wild-the-soundless-pull/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tim]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 02 Apr 2026 10:00:52 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Artistic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Submissions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[escape]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[freedom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[human condition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tom Wild]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://fiftywordstories.com/?p=63586</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[The mountains&#8217; song had always been a soft buzz in the background. “Come here” was a melody without sound. Eventually I slipped as the gang of peaks encircled me. “Give me your soul,” they boomed. I fought, briefly. Futile. Dropping my pack, I stepped off the trail, and joined them. Tom lives with his young &#8230; <a href="http://fiftywordstories.com/2026/04/02/tom-wild-the-soundless-pull/" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="screen-reader-text">TOM WILD: The Soundless Pull</span> <span class="meta-nav">&#8594;</span></a>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The mountains&#8217; song had always been a soft buzz in the background.<br />
“Come here” was a melody without sound.</p>
<p>Eventually I slipped as the gang of peaks encircled me.<br />
“Give me your soul,” they boomed.<br />
I fought, briefly. Futile.</p>
<p>Dropping my pack, I stepped off the trail,<br />
and joined them.</p>
<hr />
<p>Tom lives with his young family in New Zealand and works as a primary school teacher. He has had a passion for stories ever since learning to walk and is currently working on a series of fantasy novels.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
					
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