Set your story in a kids’ playground, or at a roundabout.

Posted in Kids on Oct 31, 2022

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✍️ 44 stories

“Resurrection” by Catrina Bowles

Submitted to Contest #155

When my mother passed away, I abandoned my city centre and relocated myself to a small bungalow on the edge of town. When I was living downtown, every time I would leave my tiny apartment to get groceries, I’d be jostled on every side by sallow-faced businessmen rushing between coffee shops and office buildings, shouting through their Bluetooth earpieces. Just hearing words like “synergy,” “innovation,” and “client-centric marketing,” was enough to make my blood boil. I’d come home and break the eggs simply setting down the shopping bags, as...

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“There's more than dandruff on your shoulders.” by MJ Payne

Submitted to Contest #155

“Where is everyone? This playground is more boring than you are!” Drizelt whined in an attempt to irritate Brongate with the insult and start an argument. Drizelt could think of plenty of things that would be more fun than arguing with him, but with the playground devoid of children, Brongate was the only being available to pester. Brongate, however, had been ignoring Drizelt’s pathetic attempts to start conflict between them for longer than either could remember, and this latest jab was not nearly enough for Brongate to ...

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“The Playground” by Sheba Grayson

Submitted to Contest #155

TW: Suicide, mental health, language There was very little blood, but to hear him tell it, he narrowly escaped with his life. The enormous, bright green bandage wraps entirely around his tiny arm. I have normal-sized Band-Aids in the bag, but Joe won’t even consider them. “Five more minutes, Joe,” I say, interrupting the retelling of his harrowing two-foot fall and subsequent scratch. He and the other boys race back to the swings. I recheck my watch. Rose lays a gentle hand over my wrist, “It will be fine,” she says. I search her face f...

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“Roundabout Repairs” by Karen C

Submitted to Contest #155

Barry, the big chestnut with the white blaze, stared back at Pete with a look of defiance. Pete, intimidated by neither the horse’s glare nor the sheer size of his subject, crowded closer to the rippling shoulder muscles and knelt down. He ran his hand down the smooth red leg until he was touching the gleaming hoof. There it was! He could see a stray bit of rusty metal sticking out at the bottom. He grasped it with his pliers and yanked. The metal shard came out much easier than expected; Pete smashed his head so hard against Barry’s under...

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“The Holes Game” by Danny Mart

Submitted to Contest #155

Warning: Mentions and implied domestic abuse. A daughter is her mother's representative in the playground. She is her valiant stand-in when someone means to insult the absent elder. And praise to her is praise to her mother for raising her. The only exception to this is when the father leaves for whatever reason, and suddenly she is no longer the mother's 'mini-me'; she is clearly 'her father's child'. This dubbing of our roles as children are reflections of our parents' hierarchical community. Consequently, the scripts we follow frequently...

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“Loosing Tim” by Tia Janay

Submitted to Contest #155

A scorching hot day, even though it was mid October. The kids, in the backseat, were consumed by their devices. We pulled up to the school parking lot, outlined by a roundabout for parent pick up and drop off. I cut the engine and the whir of the A/C cut off. My Wife, Cindy, reached over touching my hand on the steering wheel encouragingly a small warm smile on her face as she looked over at me. It had been tough for us to have to move back home from the city and she was making the best of it. Even at nearly 100 degrees a...

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“The Metal Merry-go-round” by Kimberly Santiago

Submitted to Contest #155

TW: This story contains acts of bullying. It also contains mild violence (dragging someone around, pushing someone, etc.) You were only five and and a half when Olivia first bullied you that sunny Friday afternoon. She snuck around the playground, looking all around for you. For reasons we all have yet to fully understand, no one else mattered to that little girl but you. When she finally found you, playing with your colorful plastic toys in the sandbox, she had this freakish grin on her petite face. That grin slowly turned into a wide s...

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“To the Town, To the Swings” by Annabeth M

Submitted to Contest #155

Sol needed time to think. Recently, too much of her life had absorbed a precarious instability, and her downloaded nature soundtrack couldn’t stop her mind from pinballing. She broke her routine that morning, foregoing herbal tea and podcasts for fresh air and real-life waves. She toed on her faded, striped flip flops, grabbed her keys, and shoved them into her the pocket of her once dark-blue jeans. As she closed the door behind her, she ran her fingers over the weathered, wooden surface and heard her dad admonish her for the grooves and fl...

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“Overswinging. Overspinning. Overthinking.” by Lucy Gray

Submitted to Contest #155

I don’t know how I ended up here. But here I am on a Friday evening, sitting on a swing. I guess I needed somewhere to go. Somewhere to be alone. Or maybe it was just for the nostalgia of a place and time when things were simpler. The summer sky is finally starting to darken, blues fading into orange and pink. There’s still enough light that the playground’s jungle gym casts shadows onto the springy floors, but it’s fading fast enough that parents are calling for their children to take their last trip down the slide, the last min...

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“I Am Thinking of The Secret of Durable Pigments, The Refuge of Art” by Aristos Achion

Submitted to Contest #155

The world, as the newscasters and religious zealots shrieked at the tops of their withering voices, was ending. Nobody knew how, or why, but the leaves were wilting, the water salting, the bees had gone, and the collective sense of dread was palpable. The wind had begun to whisper to the trees. And in this world, in a little town that was quieter than the night itself, there lived a boy who was spending his last night on earth in an old playground with his best friend, to which the term had rubbed some people the wrong way since th...

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“Same Place, Darker Times” by Sara Mihailescu

Submitted to Contest #155

It’s time. Night has fallen on this Tuesday. These streets are asleep except for the insomniacs, the new parents, the procrastinators, and the mosquitoes. I do not fit into any of these categories, although each is more favourable than the one keeping me awake. In the complete darkness of my house, I descend the stairs, making as little noise as possible, and exit out the back door, praying this isn’t the last time I see that door. J’s car is waiting for me at the end of the street. He never wants to come any closer than that, for “Safety...

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“Swings, Roundabouts and Pink Bubble Gum” by Mary Charnley

Submitted to Contest #155

Swings, roundabouts and Pink Bubble Gum Well, you wouldn’t believe it would you but it’s true. Just for us, us oldies. We still like to play you know, even though our bodies might be a little bent and our minds a little scrambled. You’re never too old they say, all those clichés; age is inevitable, ageing optional, or something like that. You’re only as old as you feel blah blah blah… But this, this is total magic. Oh, if my grandkids could see me now. They’d be impressed of course, but my kids merely disapproving. You’ll hurt yourself,...

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“Delilah ” by Meredith Malin

Submitted to Contest #155

“We’re in the car. And I’m wearing long sleeves and jeans. I don’t need sunscreen.” “Your face is getting all the UV damage and none of the vitamin D right now. That’s why they say to wear sunscreen every day, even if you’re just getting sunlight through windows.” He says, speeding up when he sees the light turn yellow. “I’m not paying for your Botox in ten years, that’s all I’m saying. A symphony of car ...

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“Our Park ” by Sophia Nwachukwu

Submitted to Contest #155

TW: Death, implied animal crueltyThat day it rained in the park we hid from it in the little hut at the top of the slide. I had never seen rain before, only heard about it in Jamie’s stories, his stories never told of the noise rain could make falling on a surface – like the pounding steps of protestors as they run from law enforcement – or the wailing wind it sets loose on the world that makes everything tremble. I had always thought that I wouldn’t like rain much, Jamie described it as something that made your skin wet and slippery like th...

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Set your story in a kids’ playground, or at a roundabout.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 44 stories

“Resurrection” by Catrina Bowles

“There's more than dandruff on your shoulders.” by MJ Payne

“The Playground” by Sheba Grayson

“Roundabout Repairs” by Karen C

“The Holes Game” by Danny Mart

“Loosing Tim” by Tia Janay

“The Metal Merry-go-round” by Kimberly Santiago

“To the Town, To the Swings” by Annabeth M

“Overswinging. Overspinning. Overthinking.” by Lucy Gray

“I Am Thinking of The Secret of Durable Pigments, The Refuge of Art” by Aristos Achion

“Same Place, Darker Times” by Sara Mihailescu

“Swings, Roundabouts and Pink Bubble Gum” by Mary Charnley

“Delilah ” by Meredith Malin

“Our Park ” by Sophia Nwachukwu

🌟 Similar prompts

Start your story with a character facing a situation that isn't awful, but isn't great.

Write a story that includes a character using the phrase “swings and roundabouts.”

Write about a character who gets good and bad news in quick succession — not necessarily in that order.

Write about a character who is pathologically ambivalent, until something shakes them up.

Contest #155

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

194

Contest entries

78

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: