I just read somewhere about the shortest story in the world competition held several years ago. Each entry had to be no longer than fifty five words. So I decided to give it a go, and hit the target exactly.
It spirals down out of the empty cornflower sky, elderly wings fighting its inevitable fall. The first flames flicker in its tail, and it trails smoke down to the ground.
Sleek, black, arrow-like she springs, claws extend, paws snuff out the fire, and with it, the life. Too quickly it dies. Purring, she walks away.
I really love the language in this. I think having to force yourself to keep it short and concise, you concentrating on making the language really very beautiful. Probably one of the most poetical things I've ever read by you.