This post was fun to stumble across; it was a contest (already ended) to write a 50-word complete story including the words “tiara,” “sparkly,” and “princess.” The entries are in the comments. I’d go back through them and tell you my favorites, but instead I’m going to sleep. Here’s the link.
Oh, what the heck. Here are my faves:
—
Julie Butcher-Fedynich said:
Thorns encircled the tower, huge pointy thorns. They dripped crimson poison and waited for the unwary climber. In the oval window, the princess in her sparkly tiara sighed and looked into the distance. She was so beautiful.
He looked at the thorns and again at the princess.
Bummer.
—
Vonna said…
Five is when you get to be a princess. Like Allie, a sparkly, ballerina princess. Mimi claps. Potsy takes pictures.
Her tiara makes my heart ache. Two is so far from five.
Allie dances to me, removes her tiara and sets it on my head. Allie is a princess.
—
Alina said…
I flicked the dirt from my tiara,
The muck from my bejeweled feet.
Then rudely I was hoisted up,
By hands that felt like cold concrete.
One sparkly eye was leveled at me.
I vowed I’d never acquiesce.
Sure enough, large lips drew near…
I bit them—hard. I’m the toad princess.
—
Terri said… It came in at 50 words exactly:
Tongues wagged as the newlyweds left the church.
“Ain’t she just pretty as a princess in that sparkly tiara.”
“Old fool’s got forty years on her. Where’s her family?”
“Got none. She’s an orphan.”
“Bet he’s happy.”
They were right. The local taxidermist had finally found the perfect trophy wife.
—
Janice said…
Sheryl placed a tiara on her daughter’s bald head. “You look like a princess.”
“I look stupid.” Alexis tore the sparkly tiara off and threw it across the room. “Mom, does death hurt?”
Sheryl folded her arms. “Alexis! You can’t kill your brother for shaving your head while you slept.”
—
ElanaJ said…
Haley rubs her bruised knuckles. Bones hurt. Teeth too.
Mrs. Allen, principal, opens the door. “Come in, my little first grade boxer.”
Haley stands. Frowns. “I am a princess. Can’t you see my sparkly tiara?” She sighs. “Braxton couldn’t either.”
—
Mechelle Fogelsong said…
“When you come home from summer camp pregnant, there’s only one solution, Princess,” Rosa’s father grumbled.
A Peruvian beaded tiara represented something old. Her sparkly quinceanera gown, something new. The stranger waiting at the altar seemed somehow borrowed, and she was blue.
Until she spotted his Chuck Taylors and smiled.
—
Golden Vampires said…
“Put on the tiara,” Fate commanded.
To wear it would make me a princess — or one of the corpses lying at Fate’s feet.
“If you do not, she will.” Fate pointed. The sparkling crown reflected in my sister’s eager eyes.
In response, I did what I had to do. I set the tiara on Fate’s head.
“Do you want ice cream?” I led my sister away from the screams of the tiara’s final victim.
[Golden Vampires adds: “I don’t really care if that qualifies. I just had to see if I could stand writing the word ‘sparkly.’ (I couldn’t.)”]
—
Kristin Miller said…
“Did you have to bring Princess?”
The puppy snarled at me from its designer carrier.
“Like, duh.” She stopped in front of Harry Winston.
“Ooo, sparkly.”
“The tiara?”
“Uh huh.”
“You want it?”
“As if! It’s broken.”
“Huh?”
“See? It doesn’t even go all the way around your head.”
—
(NOW I’m going to sleep.)
My Imaginary Blog 
That was fun. 🙂
Oh, my gosh. Some of those were hilarious. Thanks for sharing them.
Mine is too long (67 words) but here it is:
“Your eyes are all sparkly,” the girl observed. Her mother didn’t try to explain why the sight of the mountains, high and sharp with a soft white cloud skewered on each point was so significant. She watched a tiny child in a princess dress wonder aloud how an angel could be so forgetful as to leave her precious tiara in the little valley.
The tears spilled over.
I know, I know, more than fifty words wasn’t allowed in the actual contest. But whatever.
Nice, Lib. If you follow the link and read all 100-or-so entries, there are a couple of them that are similar to yours.
And I’d say surely there’s a way to pare 17 words, but I think since the contest is over anyway, you can keep them all. 🙂
Okay, here’s mine:
She wished she’d thought of putting a sparkly princess tiara on the photo of her baby in her banner, instead of the bulky crown, but she left it be since she’d already used up her Photoshopping energy for the day in portraying copious drool.
I really liked all of those. It’s heartening to see little profusions of brilliance. Thanks for culling.
“Heartening to see little profusions of brilliance”–ha, I think you’ve just perfectly worded one of my main motivations for continuing to peruse the World Wide Web (although finding malaprops is fun, too.)