Welcome, Germies, to this month’s writing challenge! This challenge will begin today and will end June 30th. However, you are welcome to come back anytime to complete the challenge and submit it below in the comments section. We will pick a few of our favorites that are submitted during this month, though, and they will be featured in our Lit section.

Writing Challenge:

–In the spirit of Germ’s book of the month for June, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, write a short story that includes some sort of journey, quest, or wander.

–Your story must be no longer than 500 words.

Choose 1 of the following settings:

  • city
  • forest
  • desert
  • sea

–Choose 3 items to appear in your story:

  • map
  • book
  • dollar bill
  • glasses
  • camera
  • compass



Submitting for this challenge is easy. Simply email your story to [email protected]. Put “June Writing Challenge” as the subject of your email, and include your name, age, and country in the body of your message. If you have any questions, or if you’re having problems submitting, feel free to email me at [email protected].

Everyone who completes the challenge will be responded to and informed as to whether or not their piece has been chosen to be featured. Since the deadline for this challenge is June 30th, do not expect an email from us until the beginning of July.

To prevent the possibility of our emails ending up in your spam folder, be sure to add [email protected] to your contacts list.

5 Replies to “June Writing Challenge”

  1. Found

    The ocean waves crash and linger on the shore, and I stand there waiting for them. I was the first to get off the ship, tugging at the sleeves of the children. The waves had encompassed most of the ship and its crew, leaving me to help the others get to safety. Now I wait for them, hoping they survived. I examine the terrain, the sand burning holes in my flesh and the waves filling them. Pretty coral insides of shells turn up to greet me, only to be sucked underneath the water once more. A ghost of a jellyfish pulses away from an unknown predator. I take out my aged camera to snap a shot of this mysterious being before it drifts away. A few haphazard scraps of wood scatter the beach’s length, maybe to be made useful for shelter.

    I walk over to the biggest scrap and set down my doused pack. Inside I have collected a few photographs, a book, and a blanket. I lay my blanket on the ground and start gathering wood, organizing them by their lengths. By nightfall I have a shelter, siding all around, and the blanket as a roof. I pray this will satisfy my needs, the night not becoming too cold.

    At dawn I wake and look around for anything washed ashore. There is nothing. I am the only survivor. I decide to wander into the field that runs apace with the shore. I shoulder my pack, heading into the unknown. The crops are waist high; bees and butterflies twirling around me. The sun is hot but a cool breeze emanates from the ocean. I stomp through the grass, at times pausing to retrieve my compass. To rest, I sit and read my book, Huckleberry Finn.

    Thirsty and hungry with nothing caught or killed, I spot an outline in a distance. Surely not a mirage, I head toward it at a quickening pace. To my dread I discover a tattered barn at the point of collapse. I peek in the door hoping to find someone in there, alive. Immediately, the waft of death greets me and laughs in my face. I solemnly back away, defeated by the higher force.

    I turn around, looking for a house that might be this decrepit barn’s cousin. On the horizon of a rapidly setting sun sits an old white house with beautiful red trim and shutters. I run toward it, begging, praying for someone to take me in. I politely knock on the door. When no one answers and death does not have the strength to laugh at me once again, I open the door. I hear mutterings surrounding me and step eagerly from room to room. At last in the kitchen I find a familiar being. An old woman, grey and white conquering her chestnut hair, turns around to stare at me.

    “My dear,” she whispers, “Bless you child.” I hug her, grateful.

    “Will you please help me home?” I say.

Leave a Reply