Colonialist 77 Short Story – 00001

One of the blogs I follow just started a 77 words short story challenge (HERE). 

The rules are to tell a story in 77 words, including the title. 

The theme for this first one is “The Way“. I could add an optional graphic, but unfortunately, that would give away too much.

Here is my entry for the 


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ o o o o o o ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

“No, just got turned around a bit.”

“Want to look at the interactive map again?”

“No, that’s what got us here in the first place. I’ll ask the locals for the way.”

“You?  Ask for directions? I’m impressed. Do you think it’s safe?”

“Yeah; they look peaceful enough.”

The cows ignored the spaceship landing, but grew attentive when what looked like a straw bale exited the ship and started walking toward them. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ o o o o o o ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The above is an original story by E. J. D’Alise (Disperser)
Copyright  2014

I am a bit unclear about the rules with regards to contractions, but as both of my word processor programs treated them as single words, so did I.

Comments welcomed below. 


Note: if you are not reading this blog post at, know that it has been copied without permission, and likely is being used by someone with nefarious intention, like attracting you to a malware-infested website.  Could be they also torture small mammals.


Please, if you are considering bestowing me recognition beyond commenting below, refrain from doing so.  I will decline blogger-to-blogger awards.   I appreciate the intent behind it, but I prefer a comment thanking me for turning you away from a life of crime, religion, or making you a better person in some other way.  That would mean something to me.

Should you still nominate me, I will suspect you pulled my name at random, and that you are not, in fact, a reader of my blog.  If you wish to know more, please read below.

About awards: Blogger Awards          About “likes”:   Of “Likes”, Subscriptions, and Stuff

Note: to those who may click on “like”, or rate the post; if you do not hear from me, know that I am sincerely appreciative, and I thank you for noticing what I do.

. . .  my FP ward  . . . chieken shit.