Tag Archives: Trifecta Writing Challenge

The Name – Trifecta Writing Challenge

The challenge is to write between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of a word. See the website www. trifectawritingchallenge.com for more information and to see more entries.

Exhaust

1.  to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely

2.  to try out the whole number of <exhausted all the possibilities>

‘Jennifer.’

‘That was your last girlfriend’s name. Get lost.’

‘Stella.’

‘Your mother’s name? You’ve got to be kidding!’

‘Penelope.’

‘Pitstop? Geoff, there’s a book of names there. Surely you can find one better than that?’

‘You are insufferable. If you don’t agree to one I’ll keep going until we exhaust every suggestion in the entire book, even if it takes all night.’

‘What if it’s a boy?’

‘For heaven’s sake, it’ll answer to whatever name we choose. How about Fluffy?’

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Posting Number 100

P1040132

This week I have been living in the land of no internet with a fractured communication pathway. This has left me time to focus on writing my novel. I discovered that my isolation has become a blessing in disguise as I have added more quality and bulk to my novel. This also meant that I was unable to respond to many of the lovely comments left in response to my work. Normally I do like to thank my readers for their feedback as I find it useful in assessing my strengths and weaknesses as a writer. In addition I like to acknowledge the time taken to give me that feedback and so I must apologize that I have been unable to give individual thanks this week.

I do think that it is appropriate to thank you, my readers, in this 100th post of mine.

I also thought that it may be useful to tell you of my writing plans this year. Currently I have a novel in progress. It is an investigative thriller and I hope to have it ready to submit to agents later this year. I like to write short stories and flash fiction to try to strengthen my writing skills, in particular my use of language, description and dialogue. In truth, I also love to tell a complete story in a few words; it suits my rather erratic brain. I will almost certainly continue writing in that form.

I think one of the great pleasures in my life is the ability to communicate with my fellow man, whether it be on paper or through personal interaction. Great stories come from life. My professional life as a nurse and midwife taught me that every one of us has a story to tell and I hope that you continue to enjoy mine.

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The Path – Trifecta Writing Challenge

The woman is wizened, a tiny figure lost in the chair. Suffocating her hand with his is a grey man, all colour gone from his face. He edges close to her and his lips move. I watch as she struggles to smile at his words and gently extracts her white fingers. As she raises them to his cheek, the bell rings and a deep voice barks out a name. He rises first, then extends his hand. She hangs back for a second and, while I watch, a tear escapes and weaves its way down her cheek. His arm holds her up as they go through the door; to discover their future. I wait to be called, regretting my own solitary path.

 

This story has been written as part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com. Every week a word is chosen from the dictionary. The writer must use the word in the context of the third definition in his or her piece. This week the word is PATH and the definition is a course or route; a way of life, conduct or thought. I hope that you enjoy my short piece.

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Words Unsaid – Trifecta Conversation Challenge Feb 2 2013

The Trifecta Challenge is to write 33 words of conversation. See what other writers have come up with at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com

‘I..’

‘Please don’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because.’

‘That’s not a reason.’

‘I don’t want you to say it.’

‘But I need to tell you …’

‘Stop.’

‘Come on. Uncover your ears. You can’t ignore it forever.’

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An Emotional Slide – Trifecta Writing Challenge

Brian had forgotten how to laugh. And to cry. He lingered, a lonely figure with hunched shoulders, framed by the cottage entrance. Flo watched him disappear as her husband accelerated down the lane. Flo waved from the window until they turned the corner. Then she drew her arm back in and twisted back to watch the road.

‘He’s no better. He smiles, but I tell you, his eyes give him away.’

‘What do you expect me to do Flo. Every week we visit and you come out with the same thing. Mum’s gone. He’s got to come to terms with it.’

‘I know, we’ll have a family picnic. I’ll get the kids to come.’

It took Flo three phone calls and, some blackmail, to persuade Brian to join the picnic.

That day he sat quietly on the rug, picking at his food. Flo gave her eldest son, Charlie, the look and, although he looked up at the sky, he jumped up and began organising a cricket match.

Brian was nominated bowler, though his eyesight was failing. The ball went straight, surprising everyone and connecting with Charlie’s bat, making a loud crack. The ball skipped along the ground towards Jamie at the left.  Jamie chased, his eyes on the ball, but in doing so didn’t see the tree root obstructing his path. He fell onto his front and, as Flo described later, he slid down the river bank like Superman, with hands out front trying to grab the errant ball.  He followed that ball into the river with a head-first plop and a fountain of water.

As his feet disappeared from view, Brian fell to the ground. Flo didn’t know where to run; to save Jamie, floating towards the mouth of the river, or attend to Brian.

‘I’m okay’, Jamie yelled, catching hold of a branch.

Brian was on his back, legs in the air and arms clutched across his stomach; crippled with laughter that dissolved into a torrent of tears.

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The Surgery

Warm rivers flowed down Sophie’s face as Felicity was dragged screaming through the doorway. She watched as the stick-thin legs flayed, like the sails of a windmill, as her daughter made a last attempt to escape. The door squeezed close and the wailing noise metamorphosed into a muffled series of sobs.

Sophie fingers made contact with the arm of a chair and she sank into the plastic seat. An arm slid around her shoulders and her husband whispered, ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be okay. I know that these sessions are always a BITCH but soon she’ll be well.’

Sophie struggled to smile; wishing that she could share his hope. For him, she tried to mask her grief.

116 words

Written for the Trifecta challenge – see http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com for other stories

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