Posts Tagged With: trifecta writing challenge

The Next


As the quill drips its ink
upon a new page,
an ending is beginning.

Authors pack up their wares,
Close up shop,
and find another fireside for yarn spinning.

Their words cannot quit.


A 33 word free write for Trifecta this week. I am incredibly grateful for all of the writers whose work I have come to read and follow and love through Trifecta.

Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , | 21 Comments


grain by atom by sub-atomic particle,
a slow flood became an avalanche once spotted;
wormed an unconscious declaration, didn’t you,
as love overcame annoyance, at your feet,
on my side of the bed


This, Week 113 at the esteemed, we found ourselves asked for 33 words exactly that included the word
Worm, using it’s third definition: 3 : to obtain or extract by artful or insidious questioning or by pleading, asking, or persuading —usually used with out of

So, here’s 33 words about when I realized that I really was gone daddy gone over my guy 🙂


Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense, Poetry | Tags: , , , | 13 Comments


The tunnel swoops in and scoops me up

As my model stands blinking at the echo of my last words,

‘Run into the light now!’

I look down at my body from above;

That wasn’t what I meant.


For this week’s challenge, we were to write 33 words as a prelude to these 5 – ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’


Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , | 19 Comments

Excuse Me, Your Fangirl is Showing


Without conceit and so amazed, the soldier becomes the stalwart. Bolstered by belief and unconditioned love, the madman leaves the genius untouched. A match made on Baker Street, blessed by the Detective Inspector.

This weeks Trifecta Trifextra challenge:
This weekend we’re asking for 33 of your own words about a famous trio. The trio could be from literature, from history or from pop culture. Just make it yours and have fun with it. Good luck!

I couldn’t help myself…

Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , | 12 Comments

The Shadow Knights

Hero was judged Champion and set forth across the Shadow Bridge, to dance through light like a ghost and slay the monsters infecting the realm. Under The Bed was safe once more.


Um, 33 word fairy tales are not easy to write. Who knew?? Link up and read, these short challenges bring the best out of a lot of writers 🙂


Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , | 20 Comments

Up From the Muck


I walk your streets when darkness kisses the ground. I don’t skulk – I belong wherever I decide I wish to be. I do keep to the shadows, but only because I’m not pretty and don’t like being reminded that it matters.

Besides, trust me…I don’t want to talk to you any more than you want to look at me.

I stare into your lighted windows, portals to what I am now a stranger to, and try to discern what magic gravitational field exists in there that keeps your feet on this side of terra firma when so many of us slipped right through the crack. Whether it appears to you as a fissure or a chasm makes no nevermind; one misstep and *pfft* you’re the squalling baby surfing the tide of the bathwater.

With determination you can clamber back out for a nighttime sojourn, but never to stay. The pull that the underside exerts is physical. As dawn’s light starts to creep across the horizon like a cat burglar doing the walk of shame, your feet will turn themselves towards the closest pool of blackness to slip you back home. By that time you’re most likely ready to go anyway. The world up here now is a reflection in a fun house mirror and the people that loved you don’t even bother to see right through you since they don’t see you at all.

I need to figure out how it is that we can stand outside and look in on them and their comforts, and yet they cannot look out and see us in the miasma. If I can’t answer that question…well, then none of us will ever get to go home again.

….because I know more people falling through the cracks than dancing around them…


Trifecta Week 86 challenges us to write between 33-333 words using the word….wait for it….
1a : a loud roll or peal
b : a sudden sharp noise
2: a sharp witty remark : quip
3a : a narrow break : fissure

b : a narrow opening —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out

Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , , | 18 Comments

What’s a Process…?

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Trifextra: Week 76
( the picture has nothing to do with anything, I just took it and wanted it there cos I like it… )

So, apparently one of the fancy Trifecta editors was able to see Neil Gaiman and hear him read from his new book and do a little Q&A (please take this time to wipe any excess bitterness and/or jealousy off your screen). When asked if he could describe his writing process in three words, his answer was “Glare. Drink tea.”

Which is ridiculous. And awesome. And since he and Terry Pratchett are maybe the only people in the world that I would fan-girl-flail for, of course I think it’s adorable.

So the Trifextra challenge this week asks us to do the same. Three words for this idiot thing that consumes us and drives us and sometimes ruins us, and yet is still one of the best things about us. A few words went through my head that were true and accurate, a couple that were funny. But when it comes down to it my ‘process’ doesn’t have much to do with me and everything to do with what plays out in my head, mostly without my say so.

And so, in honor of the characters that live within and rarely ever shut the hell up, I’m going to go with:

Let them speak.


Link up, check out everyone else, you can read a shit ton of 3 word posts before your work day is done 😉


Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense | Tags: , , , | 33 Comments

Broken and Rebuilt

shadow sky

i am shadows
i am crumbled bricks
and base elements,
i am broken down to my beginnings.
i am gritty sandy mortar dust;
trod upon, i fly to far flung places
on the bottoms of bare feet.
i make my nest within shards and splinters,
snuggling my demons close
like an over-washed rag doll,
much loved.
i turn a pale and wrinkled face towards the light.
don’t judge –
even the Phoenix looks ugly,
when first it rises from the ashes.
i am broken.

i will protect my ruins,
as fiercely as my temples,
my stained glass beauty and palatial strength.
my dirty garden of shattered things,
liquid pools of sad eyes,
betrothed to wallowing, and to me.
i am rebuilt.

This is my entry for Trifecta, Week 85 – go here, read these things, there will be something that you will love

The word this week is fly:
3a : to move, pass, or spread quickly
b : to be moved with sudden extreme emotion
c : to seem to pass quickly


Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , | 25 Comments

As the Crone Flies

Mmmm.” The Chamberlain stared down his crag of a nose. “A rather crude representation.”

The chill current of air that danced around the apprentices feet seemed to whisper into his bones in a strangers voice. He shivered in his robes and looked down at the squat clay figure on the scarred tabletop. It was short, with pendulous breasts sagging over a rounded belly. Rough gashes represented eyes and mouth on the boulder of a head. “You had said that you believed that the Crone would strike tonight, sir, and that it only need be ‘indicative of her visage’. I had thought that you were in a hurry, sir, so I didn’t worry overmuch about the art of the thing.”

“Mmmm. Just so, just so.” Echoes travelled slowly through the air of the stone chamber, bouncing a gentle oh-oh-oh back and forth. “I have many preparations still to make before the light is swallowed. Prepare the altar for me, I will be back before that candle burns to black.” His finger, all bone and knuckle with just the palest hint of flesh, extended towards a fat and guttering candle shoved into the top of a bottle. The flame was yellow gold, with a blush of red creeping into the bottom. After the red would come the green, and after the green the black.

“Yes, sir, I’ll have it waiting for you, exactly the way that we planned, I swear to it.” The apprentice bowed, his hands grasping each other inside voluminous sleeves. As soon as the Chamberlain was gone from the room, however, the candle burned to blue. Dropping to his knees so fast that the stone nearly drove him to cry out, he prostrated himself before it. “Mistress.”

The blue flame flared bright as morning and thickened, wending its twisty way upon whatever eddies of air it could find. It’s tip elongated, touching the boy on the back of his neck, bidding him rise. “Smaaassshhh iiit…”, a bodiless voice hissed in his ear.


this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge was to use the 3rd definition of the word crude:
3: marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity


Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , , | 18 Comments

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